After Hours
by Tomorrow's Hero
Summary: It can be amazing how time and circumstance turn enemies into newfound friends... especially when those same enemies were trying to kill you not one month ago. A series of shorts featuring Mike Schmidt as he tries to make the most of the graveyard shift by making four unexpected new friends.
1. The Best Worst Idea Ever

**I honestly never thought I'd be writing a fanfic about this game. I've never played _Five Nights at Freddy's_, and no power on this Earth will change that fact, but I've been reading some other fanfictions about this game, and when it birthed this idea I just couldn't stay away. **

**And so we've got this. It's mostly gonna be one-shots, with some tighter story arcs throughout. I'll upload the intro arc as quickly as I can and go on how people react to it from there. Please do enjoy, because I really want this to be a successful story. **

**But enough of that, enjoy the tales of Mike Schmidt and his Fazbear buddies!**

**After Hours**

_**Stepping Out Part 1: The Best Worst Idea Ever**_

Mike Schmidt was _bored_.

No, no, he'd been past bored since around 2:00. Now he could actually feel himself dying inside just a little with every passing moment. Hell, by this point he almost wished Bonnie or Chica would slip in and scream in his face again.

Granted, they'd stopped being dangerous since he'd reprogrammed them at the start of his second week, and so he wasn't really in any danger anymore, but it would at least be something to break the monotony.

A quick sweep of the cameras revealed no immediate threat, and the power was still at a manageable level, so Mike leaned back and groaned for the umpteenth time that night. Just as he'd stayed put for the two weeks prior to this one, he'd be staying put once again tonight. Someone had to watch the animatronics after all.

Mike switched to the backstage camera and saw Bonnie standing around, looking up into the camera. For a moment, Mike flinched – he was half expecting to see the rabbit's demonic black eyes once again. But it seemed as though Bonnie wasn't in that kind of mood tonight, as he just grinned and flashed a thumbs up into the camera.

Mike was still surprised at just how friendly the animatronics had turned out to be when they weren't hunting him down. He still hadn't really gotten a chance to talk with any of them, since they were only active at night and he was stuck in the guard booth during that time. But judging by their interactions with each other, and what little snippets of dialogue they'd given to him after they'd slipped in and given him a good scare, they seemed to be pretty casual, friendly guys. If Mike hadn't been explicitly told they were animatronics, he might have even thought they were just people in suits.

Unfortunately by the time they became active for the night Mike would already be in his booth. Plus, over the past couple of weeks he'd gotten incredibly good at keeping them out; he'd been in danger for long enough that surviving the night was literally a basic instinct for him now. Even Freddy couldn't slip into the room anymore.

It was too bad, really – Mike wouldn't have minded getting to talk to the others a little.

Unless...

It was one of those ideas that could've turned out to be absolutely brilliant or really freaking stupid. Like the metaphorical Schrödinger's Cat, the only real way to really know would be to give it a shot and see how things progressed. Then again, the cat in question could very well die...

But Mike was _really _bored, and judging by how the animatronics were acting tonight, their AI hadn't reset to malevolence. Maybe he really could trust them... or maybe they'd shove him into a suit.

Shifting through the cameras halfheartedly, Mike lightly tapped a finger against the left light button and felt his stomach drop upon seeing Bonnie leaned against a wall just outside, arms folded casually. By pure reflex Mike slammed his fist into the door button, and the door fell quickly between the two. Checking quickly on the other side to see if Chica was waiting there (she wasn't), Mike sighed in relief. Bonnie probably wouldn't stick around too long – he never did – so Mike would be able to get the door back up before it drained too much power.

And yet there was a part of Mike that thought differently, a little part that wanted him to push that button and let the rabbit in so they could formally meet. He hadn't done anything like that since his first week, when he'd accidentally let Foxy in and they wound up becoming friends. But he could still remember that one moment when the pirate was screaming in his face and he was lying on the ground, too scared to even cry, certain that his life was about to end. Could he really bring himself to relive that? What if Bonnie wasn't as friendly as Foxy had been?

And most importantly, was Bonnie even still out there? It'd been a while, and the bunny tended to give up fast. Slowly Mike's finger rose up to the door button and held itself there, waiting for his mind to make itself up already. Mike quickly ran through the idea one last time. He knew deep down that he really did want to befriend the animatronics, and not just out of boredom. Crazy as it was, he'd actually grown to like them. In a way, they were just like his coworkers, and Lord knew that he could use some friends to keep him company. It might actually be kinda nice.

Or, he could get stuffed into a suit.

…

…

Oh, what the hell? What was life without a little risk... or trust?

Mike jabbed the door button with a determined vigor.

**And that's chapter one. Short, I know, but I don't want these chapters to be too long, at least not at first. Let me know what you think.**

**Tomorrow's Hero, signing out.**


	2. Violations of Common Sense

**Here's the second chapter of the introductory arc. To answer the question in Rock Raider's review, Mike was actually a technician for Freddy's before becoming a security guard, and on one of his shifts he inadvertently altered Foxy's AI, making him harmless again. I was actually going to address that later, but it's no big deal.**

**On a similar note, not everything will be explained in this intro arc. I don't want to overwhelm anyone, so instead I'll reveal things about the past in later chapters, both immediate (i.e. Mike and Foxy's first formal meeting) and farther back (like the Bite of '87).**

**It's gonna be rough, but I'm new to this kind of story, so please give me some time. I'll do my best, I promise.**

_**FNaF**_** belongs to Scott Cawthon.**

**After Hours**

_**Stepping Out Part 2: Achievements in Violations of Common Sense**_

As soon as the door started to slide open, Mike could feel an intense feeling of terror flare up within him, despite his best efforts to stymie it. Turned out it didn't really matter anyway; a quick press of the light switch revealed that the rabbit had already left. And yet within the intense relief Mike could feel a great deal of sadness as well. Why couldn't he have opened the door sooner? Surely Bonnie or someone else would be back in due time, but by then who knew what Mike would have decided to do? Just this first try took every ounce of courage he had. Would he have enough to try again if the opportunity arose?

Damn it, that couldn't happen. He wanted this, more than anything in the world right now. And if he couldn't afford to wait for them to come back, then he just wouldn't wait.

So for the first time ever, Mike stood up from his chair, unplugged the fan, and after only a brief moment of trepidation, flicked the light switch off. The ensuing darkness was suffocating, and the small size of the room certainly didn't help, so the guard forced himself to breathe deeply to ease the fear. He was really putting his life on the line, he knew that... but then again, he was more than used to that.

Then, Mike Schmidt lunged out the door and into the West Hall.

Within seconds, Mike had another realization; the West Hall? _**No less dark. **_

Only then did Mike really start to feel scared. Actually, by that point he was well beyond 'scared' and careening through 'petrified.' His legs gave out and dropped him onto the ground as his imagination ran wild. Was he alone? Where were the animatronics? Around the corner? Right behind him? Every sound and sensation, no matter how small, produced a cacophony of nightmarish thoughts.

Desperately, Mike closed his eyes tightly and tried to block his ears, but it didn't stop the terror. He was vaguely aware of tears splashing down his face as he curled up into himself as far he could. This was a mistake, a ridiculous, colossal mistake. To think he could leave the booth and see the others! He wouldn't even see the light of day, he was certain. They'd find him, no doubt, and then they'd pick him up and cram him into a suit just like the guy before him! He'd finally be-

"Hey."

He was sobbing so loudly that he didn't even hear the voice at first.

"I said hey!"

Okay, that was definitely something. Mike could feel his tears stem slightly, fear replaced by confusion. Who was talking? Was there another human hiding out here or something? He was still too scared to look up, but maybe they'd introduce themsel-

"LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU!"

Mike was so startled by the outbust that he reared up and accidentally flipped himself over onto his back. Now he that he was staring straight up, he could see a pair of glowing white eyes, narrowed into angry slits. Animatronic eyes, no doubt. But whose voice was that? It seemed kinda familiar...

Then it clicked.

"...Bonnie?" Mike gasped out.

Mike heard a sighing sound, followed by some quiet muttering. "Can't believe we couldn't catch this kid... yes, it's Bonnie." Mike could feel himself calming down quickly now. He'd spoken with Bonnie a couple times before, and honestly he'd come across as rather gruff, at least in Mike's eyes. Mike wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but he was fairly certain that the bunny wouldn't try anything dangerous.

"What the hell you doing here, Mike?" Bonnie continued, pulling Mike back into the present. "D'you really think you could just walk out of the booth?"

"...Kinda yeah," Mike replied weakly.

Bonnie stared at him for a minute or two before speaking. "Alright, on your feet. Take my hand."

"...I can't see it."

Bonnie swore under his breath. "Look, just get up. I don't wanna talk to you while you're lying down like that. It's weird."

Mike sighed and slowly rose to his feet. His first impression of the rabbit had been completely spot on. But at least he wasn't in any real danger, at least for the moment.

"Now let's hear some answers. Why'd you try to waltz on out of here?" Bonnie inquired. Mike couldn't see anything but Bonnie's glowing eyes, but he imagined that the rabbit had his arms crossed over his chest like a bouncer, ready to get physical if necessary.

After a delay, Mike sighed. "Look, I'd really rather not do this out here. Can we go back to the booth?"

"Alright, lemme see if I've got this straight," Bonnie sighed, pinching the bridge of his snout. "You thought it'd be a good idea to get out of here and see if we wanted to hang out with you?"

Mike nodded and looked up at the rabbit from his seat in the booth. "Pretty much, yeah."

"..._Why?_"

Mike groaned uncomfortably. "I've been bored. Six hours a night in this tiny room? For the past two weeks? At least during the first week I had to deal with you guys. Now I'm just sitting in here talking to myself, and honestly I think I'm starting to talk back."

Bonnie had to give Mike that much. It was amazing just how skilled the human had become at keeping the four animatronics out in such a short time period, threats to his life notwithstanding. Even Freddy admitted that the boy was just too good.

But was this even in the rules? Every guard up until now had stayed put in this room until six o'clock sharp. Admittedly, they'd all been endos (for some reason), but did that mean that they _couldn't _leave, or that they _wouldn't_? Mike, on the other hand, was human, and Bonnie wasn't sure whether that changed anything for him or not.

Bonnie didn't want to do anything that could get Mike fired; he liked the guy, and so did the others. Maybe that was why they devoted so much time to screwing with him. It was a paradox, and whatever the reason the train of thought made Bonnie's processor ache, so he moved on.

"Mike, you know you're supposed to _guard _this place, right?" Bonnie asked, raising an eyebrow. "What if something – or some_one_ – gets in when you're out with us?"

For a moment, Mike couldn't find an answer, but as his eyes trailed downward it came to him. "I'll use my laptop!" On seeing Bonnie's confused look, he held up the device. "It lets me see through the cameras. As long as I look through it every now and then it should be fine, right?"

"Yeah, I guess..." Bonnie trailed off. The metal rabbit couldn't explain it, but he felt an intense conflict at the thought of getting Mike out of his usual booth. On one hand, he loved the idea of Mike joining the little circle of companions that the animatronics all formed, and he was certain the others would feel the same. But still, Bonnie couldn't help but feel some part of him rebel against the idea. Was that his programming? And if it was, how was he rebelling against it?

And most importantly, what should he choose?

**This is probably going kinda slow right now, and I'm sorry. I just need to get this intro arc out of the way, and then I can move on to the snapshot structure that I'm planning for the majority of the story. Speaking of which, I'm open to requests so if you want me to write about something specific, let me know and I'll see if I can do something with it. Thanks!**

**Tomorrow's Hero, signing out.**


	3. It Never Hurts to Take a Risk or Two

**And here's the final intro chapter. I'm really sorry this took so long to get out. My laptop broke on me, so I had to send it in for repairs, but I'm back now. Enjoy!**

**After Hours**

_**Stepping Out Part 3: It Never Hurts to Take a Risk or Two**_

"...There's a flashlight in the desk."

Mike's eyes opened wide at those words. Did this mean...?

"In the desk?" He repeated with a mix of hope and disbelief.

"That's what I said," Bonnie responded, slightly annoyed. "In the desk. Left side, top drawer. It's dark out there, and you can't see in the dark like we can, so you'll need it."

Without hesitation Mike slid his chair over to the desk and yanked a drawer open. Sure enough, a long black flashlight was resting inside, and he scooped it up quickly. Turning it off and on a couple times to test it, Mike turned back to Bonnie. "Hey, you really sure you want me out there with you guys? I mean, I don't really know you guys that well, so-"

"Stop," Bonnie snapped, and Mike immediately fell silent. "_You_ said you wanted this, not me. I'm not gonna stand here and let you try to pawn this off onto me just because you're too much of a chicken to make the choice yourself. I'm better than that." Bonnie stopped upon the sight of Mike's hurt face, then sighed and continued in a calmer voice. "Look, I want you out there, I do. And I know that the others would say the same thing if they were here right now. Staying in here because you're afraid to take the risk is wrong, Mike. To yourself and to us. So you can either hide in here for the rest of the night, or you can stand up, head out those doors, and for the last... three hours of the night, I think-"

"Yeah, it's about three, now," Mike chimed in.

"-You can hang with us. I don't guarantee you'll have fun, or that you'll want to do it again another day, but that's the chance you'd be taking." Bonnie folded his arms across his chest. "What's it gonna be?"

Mike pondered what Bonnie had just told him. It was a little harsh, no doubt about it, but it wasn't exactly wrong. The truth was that now that the opportunity was there, Mike seriously was starting to doubt the choice he'd made. He wasn't worried about dying anymore, Bonnie'd pretty much crushed that, but he still didn't know what he'd do with the animatronics. He didn't know what they liked to do or what kind of people they were. What if they didn't get along with him? He didn't want to invest time in failed friendships, he'd done plenty of that in college.

And yet, a part of Mike wanted to kick himself for thinking like that. In truth, he had always been a little pessimistic, always assuming the worst of most situations, but wouldn't this be the perfect time to shake that habit off? Even if it didn't work out, it wouldn't mean anything too bad. He and the animatronics would still be on friendly terms, and he'd still be able to leave every morning with his body and life intact. Maybe this was exactly what he needed to do.

And if that was the case, why on Earth would he do otherwise?

Mike gripped the flashlight steadily in one hand and smiled up at Bonnie. "...All right, let's go."

Bonnie grinned right back.

* * *

><p>Mike knew that he was going to die one day. It was a fact he'd learned at a tender young age, possibly even a bit <em>too <em>young, although he didn't like to think about it much. In fact, during his first week at Freddy's he'd thought about death quite a lot. In Mike's defense, however, his situation certainly did nothing to distract from the concept. Ever since starting at Freddy Fazbear's, Mike largely believed that he would die in one of three ways: getting shoved into a suit, heart attack, or sleep deprivation.

What was happening now was none of the three, and in all of his twenty-something years, Mike never imagined that he'd go out this way.

Hugged to death by a giant, metal chicken. Mike could practically see his obituary flashing before his eyes, and it was not flattering.

Still, at least she wasn't _trying_ to kill him. A silver lining, Mike decided.

While Mike was thinking about his impending death at the hands of a happy Chica, Bonnie was busy trying to pry her off of him, or at the very least get her to call the hell down. It wasn't working, at least not until...

"What's goin' on here?"

The voice was deep, with a striking Southern drawl that Mike found both enticing and remarkably out of place. Apparently both Bonnie and Chica were familiar with the voice, as they both stood stock still at the sound of it before turning all the way around to face its owner. Groaning with relief at being released from Chica's death grip, Mike bent down to grab his flashlight and brought it up, shining it into the face of the newcomer.

And his heart stopped upon seeing Freddy Fazbear standing before him. Mike could feel his legs start to give out again and his heart begin to pump faster once more. Horrible memories flashed across his eyes, memories of pure black darkness and a haunting music box song (why Freddy'd picked "March of the Toreadors" for his theme, Mike would never know). Mike remembered the horror of lying silent and still in the darkness as the song played, praying to whatever higher power was rolling the dice up there that six o'clock would roll around before the end. For a brief moment Mike feared that the bear would start his song once again, that thirty second tune that counted down the time to almost certain death.

But he didn't. Instead, he growled slightly and covered his eyes with one hand. "Boy, you eith'r put that light out or shine it somewhere else. I can't see a damn thing."

Mike complied automatically, moving the flashlight down slightly to shine on Freddy's chest, as opposed to into his face. The animatronic bear blinked a couple of times before settling his eyes on the human before him, and Mike, not for the first time that night, feared for his life.

So he was surprised when the bear instead grinned broadly and strode toward him. "Dear God in the mornin'! 'Sthat you, Mike?" The bear laughed jovially and clapped a hand on Mike's shoulder with such force that he nearly fell over. "Never thought I'd see th' day when ya'd get outta that box!"

Mike laughed sheepishly. "Yeah, Chica was just finishing up with saying 'hi'."

"To put it lightly," Bonnie smirked. "Your eyes were bulging out of your head."

"Hey, back off! I was happy!" Chica shot back. "I've been waiting for this for a loooong time, and I'm gonna enjoy it!"

"And that's fine with me, but I don't think crushing people is any way to show 'em you're happy," Bonnie retorted with a grin.

Chica growled, but Mike was quick enough to cut in. "Hey, is Foxy around? He's the only one left."

Chica shrugged. "He's probably still hiding out in Pirate's Cove, like always. What do you think he does in there?"

Before anyone could venture an answer, Bonnie spoke up. "I'll get him. He'll want to be here for this, I know it." And then the rabbit left.

"A'ight then, boy," Freddy spoke once more, looking Mike in the eye. "Ah think we're both jonesin' ta know why ya got outta that box."

"Yeah, you should've come out a long time ago!" Chica chimed in. "We don't bite... anymore."

Mike struggled not to look at her upon that last part. Too 'Bite of '87'-ey. "Honestly, Freddy, there's not much to say. I mean, I've been sitting in that room for six hours a night for the past two weeks, and I'll be doing it again and again for the foreseeable future." It was a depressing truth, but Mike _was _a pretty recent college graduate, and he wouldn't be getting a 'real' job until he built up some work experience, so for the time being he was stuck at the pizzeria, working for money to pay off his student loan debts. "If you guys weren't gonna kill me, I probably would've done it myself."

Freddy and Chica nodded in sympathy. They were no strangers to boredom, what with coming to life for six hours every night for as long as they could recall. At least Mike could shake things up, they weren't even supposed to leave the restaurant. But he was here now, so of course they'd accept him. They didn't know much about him, but seeing as how he kept coming back every night when most endos disappeared pretty quickly – where _did _they go, anyway? - but their guts said he was a good guy, and they wanted to know more.

"Well that's it, then!" Freddy laughed. "Welcome t' our li'l gang, boy!"

"That's great!" Chica cheered. "I bet Foxy'll be happy to hear that. He's wanted to see you again for a while, Mike."

And at that moment, a familiar voice rang out.

"_GANGWAAAAAAAY!_"

"Speak o' the devil..." Freddy chuckled as an orange blur whipped past and barreled toward Mike. The young man flinched, but the newcomer simply swung his good arm around Mike's shoulders and gave him a happy, albeit toothy, smile.

"Yo-ho, Mike, me harty!" The pirate fox laughed in his tinny voice, damaged jaw flapping open and shut. "What's this I be hearin' about ye joining our ship?"

"Well, he clearly hasn't changed a bit," Chica laughed with everyone else. "Foxy, Mike's gonna be hanging out with us now."

"For tonight, at least," Mike amended. "I'll see how it goes from there."

But Foxy obviously hadn't heard a word Mike just said. "A new first mate?! Then this be a night for celebratin'!" Foxy bellowed happily, waving his hook hand in Chica's direction. "Bird wench! Two o' yer finest pizzas!"

Chica did not take well to this and gave Foxy a solid whack upside the head. But at least it fixed Foxy's jaw, Mike noted. "So, what do you guys do around here?" He asked, hoping to refocus the group's attention.

Chica was too busy fuming and Freddy was comforting her, so Bonnie answered that. "Whatever we feel like doing. Mostly we just hang around on our own. Chica bakes in the kitchen, Freddy makes sure the chairs and tables are set up right, Foxy hides out in his cove doing whatever he does in there, and I just walk around," Bonnie said, before adding, "We don't really hang out together much, in case you were wondering."

Mike shrugged. "That's okay. I'm a pretty resourceful guy. I'll find something to do. As long as it's not in that guard room, I'm happy doing whatever." Mike offhandedly pushed Foxy's jaw back into place, and the fox patted him on the back in gratitude.

"Tha's good t' hear," Freddy smiled. "C'mon, 's time we give ya a tour o' th' place."

And with that, the four animatronics strode into the restaurant once more, with one more person – one more _friend_ – in tow. Mike could only muse at the turn of events that led to here. Two weeks ago, he'd have rather scrapped the robots entirely than befriended them. Now?

Well, it was too soon to say, but Mike had a sneaking suspicion that, for the first time, he would enjoy his job at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria.

**And with that done, I say adieu for now. See you soon!**

**Tomorrow's Hero, signing out.**


	4. He's No Bond, That's for Sure

**After Hours**

_**He's No Bond, That's For Sure**_

Keeping his back to the wall, Mike slid to the floor and opened his trusty laptop to check the cameras one last time. Freddy was in the dining area as usual, making sure all the tables and chairs were in their proper places, Foxy was probably in Pirate's Cove – Mike couldn't see him on any of the cameras – and Bonnie was backstage, adjusting the heads of a few empty suits. Mike couldn't help but wonder, just for a moment, if anybody had ever been forced into those suits before, and he shuddered.

He couldn't find Chica, but that was good; if Mike couldn't see her on the cameras, then she could only be in one of two places: the bathrooms or the kitchen. Knowing that, Mike switched at last to the audio-only camera in the kitchen and the screen went black as always. But Mike didn't need to see what was in there, he just needed to hear it.

And listening closely Mike could hear just what he'd been hoping to hear. Chewing.

So Chica was in the kitchen. Mike smiled. Just as planned.

Silently, Mike closed the laptop and tiptoed toward the kitchen door, stopping just off to the side of it. Now that he was nearby, he could hear Chica chewing from outside without the need of the camera. For the past two weeks he'd heard that sound whenever he'd switched to the kitchen camera. He'd figured out on day two that it was Chica who was always in there, but only recently did he realize that she was chewing on something.

And he wanted to figure out just what was so appetizing... and maybe take some for himself.

He'd considered at first knocking on the door and telling her that Freddy needed her, which would allow him to slip in and actually take a look while she was gone. But then he realized that it wouldn't exactly give him a lot of time, and he didn't want Chica getting mad at him. He'd only recently gotten into their good graces, he wasn't about to throw that away.

So instead he created another plan; put his ear to the door and pray like crazy he'd be able to figure it out from what he heard. It wasn't really a _good _plan. He'd be really conspicuous, he wouldn't actually be able to see anything, and if Chica came out she'd probably spot him. But it made him feel like a spy, so that was all he needed.

Aiming his flashlight at his feet, Mike slowly leaned forward and placed his ear against the two-way door leading to the kitchen. He could definitely hear the grinding of Chica's teeth biting into... something. He'd spent some time trying to figure out what it could have been that she enjoyed so much, and he'd narrowed it down to two likely options: pizza or people.

He was pretty sure it was pizza. He hoped.

Suddenly the chewing stopped, and Mike swiftly slid away from the door once again in case it were to open. Fortunately, it did not, although Mike couldn't help but hear what sounded like pots and pans rattling loudly inside. What was Chica doing?

A few moments later, Mike slid back to his post at the door. With all his being, he strained to hear just a little more of what was happening. In fact he was so engrossed in his task that when a certain fox snuck up behind him-

"What be ye doin', matey?"

-He was taken completely by surprise. The sound Mike made as he crashed through the kitchen door was neither dignified nor manly. The sound he made when he whipped the flashlight up into Chica's menacingly glaring face was even less so.

"Mike! What are you doing?!" Chica shouted down at the poor night guard. "And you, Foxy! Did you put him up to this?"

"Aye lass, I beseech ye! 'Tis a whale of a misunderstandin', I assure ye!" Foxy cried, waving his arms in panic.

"...Alright then," Chica tore her eyes from the other animatronic and refocused on Mike. "What were you doing, Mike? Were you _spying _on me?!"

"It's... just a... misunderstanding," Mike groaned.

* * *

><p>Sometime later…<p>

"Y'know, you should've just asked if you were curious what I do in here," Chica lightly reprimanded Mike. "I wouldn't have minded."

"Sorry, I just liked my idea a little better," Mike shrugged, taking another bite out of his pizza. Turned out she really was just eating pizza in the kitchen all night. Go freaking figure.

But as it turned out, Chica didn't just _eat _the pies, she _made _them too. And as Mike tore his way through the twin slices Chica had granted him, he had to admit that she was an exceptional chef. Granted, the pizza was still the usual cheap kind that these types of places served, but somehow it tasted amazing, almost as good as the higher quality stuff.

"This pizza's awesome, by the way," Mike spoke with a smile. "You make this stuff a lot?"

"Every night," Chica nodded. "It's a little repetitive, but it gives me something to do."

"And then you... eat it?" Mike asked.

Chica stared at him oddly. "What? No, I'm all metal and gears. How would I eat it?"

Mike's eyes widened as the pizza slid from his hands. "Wait... but, wait, on the camera, I-I can hear you chewing. What are you chewing?"

Chica just flashed a toothy grin. "Sorry, Mike. I've gotta keep some secrets. See you around." And then she wandered off.

Mike watched her leave, then wolfed down the pizza as fast as he could before his appetite could die out. He didn't want to waste food, after all.

After making sure his stomach would be alright, he started walking to Pirate's Cove. Foxy had looked a little sullen after scaring him earlier, so it was the least he could do.

Plus, anything that could keep his mind off of what Chica had just told him would be more than welcome.


	5. Schmidt's Island: Part 1

**After Hours**

_**Schmidt's Island: Part 1**_

Mike Schmidt enjoyed the calmness of the morning seas. He loved the way the waves lapped up against the helm of the _Red Fox _just enough to make it gently rock back and forth, but not so hard as to make him seasick. Standing up on the ship's bow he could feel the sea breeze ever so tenderly blowing against his face, and he could smell the pungent but intoxicating scent of salt water as the ship carved through the sea.

Inhaling deeply with a smile on his face, Schmidt pulled his trusty telescope out once again and raised it up to his eye. Even with his range enhanced by the tool, only endless water met his gaze, just as it had for the past month. He sighed dejectedly; the captain had said not three days ago that they'd be spotting the Bleeding Isle any time now, and yet still no such place could be found. For what was far from the first time, Schmidt pondered if the captain had been drunk at the time.

Of course, the captain was rarely drunk unless they were celebrating in port – he had to focus whilst at sea, after all – but it was sometimes hard to tell with him.

Dispelling such thoughts from his mind, Schmidt moved the telescope back and forth one last time, praying to the gods of the sea that his faith in the captain was not misplaced.

And then, just off the starboard side... he saw it.

He couldn't believe It at first. Surely it had to be a trick, a mirage brought on by weeks of isolation on a ship! But as he continued to look through the telescope, the island did not disappear. It slowly became larger – not much larger, but enough for the sailor to realize that they were indeed getting closer.

And it was joyous.

"That's it..." Schmidt whispered in awe, before turning around and shouting to the crew. "Men, get a message to the captain. Land ho!" He thrusted the telescope into the air.

"LAND HO!" The response boomed unanimously from the faceless crew as they hurried to work; adjusting the sails, running to spread the news, and most importantly, rushing to the captain's quarters. It warmed Schmidt's heart to see the crew excited like this. It was rare that news came in about a big haul, let alone one as big as this one. Rumor had it that the treasure hidden within the Bleeding Isle could set an entire crew up for life. But even if the rumors weren't true the idea of adventure was more than enough for the _Red Fox_, and the captain wasted no time in shipping out.

To say it'd been a hard journey would be a vast understatement. A month's travel either way wasn't exactly something just any ship could be ready for, and on top of that the intrepid buccaneers had faced countless perils along the way. Storms that threw up walls of water a hundred feet high. Bloodthirsty rival pirate ships intent on quite literally cutting out some of the competition. Even a vicious kraken that took seven fine men before every hand on the ship united to take it down.

Those sacrifices would never be forgotten, but soon it would all be over. With the Bleeding Isle in sight at last and no other pirate ships to be seen, there would be nothing but smooth sailing to the treasure, and with it a life of wealth.

Schmidt was snapped out of his reverie by the slinging of a hooked arm, garbed in deep blue hues, around his shoulder. "I told ye th' Bleedin' Isle wasn't far, aye?" A deep voice chuckled. Schmidt nodded and turned to the voice's owner, a fox sharply dressed in pirate attire – vest, hat, and eyepatch, the whole package.

But this was no ordinary pirate fox, no. This was Captain Foxy, the man without fear who'd made this entire trek a reality. Schmidt loved the captain with all his heart, and had done so ever since the captain had discovered him back when he was an orphan, living on the streets and pinching whatever he could to get by. He'd made the deadly mistake of trying to steal from the fox in a crowded pub, but Foxy wasn't fooled for a moment. The captain had grabbed Schmidt by the sleeve and dragged him outside into the cold night. At the time, Schmidt was certain that he'd die.

But Foxy had been impressed by the young man's bravado, trying to pickpocket a pirate. And so the pirate gave the boy a home aboard his proud ship. Now, at the time the young Schmidt only thought of pirates as savages and beasts who raped, pillaged and plundered without abandon or empathy. While he knew now that there were plenty of pirates like that, he also knew that there were plenty of exceptions to the rule and Foxy, thank God, was an exception. The vulpine treated every member of his crew like a family member, and they loved him unconditionally in return. Schmidt was no different – he'd started out a mere swabbie and errand boy, but the years went by and under Foxy's eye he grew stronger, wiser and craftier. A model pirate, in other words.

Then one day, the captain had pulled him into his own private quarters with a proposition; he wanted Schmidt to become his new first mate. Overwhelmed with gratitude at his captain's generosity, Schmidt had no choice but to accept, and ever since that day the two had sailed around the globe standing together at the _Red Fox's _bowsprit. Before long he'd become known as "Iron Heart" Schmidt, inseparable ally and friend to the great Captain Foxy, and ever since he'd borne that title with pride.

Now, as the two companions stood side-by-side at the bow of the _Red Fox_, watching the Bleeding Isle draw closer by the minute, Schmidt turned to his captain and spoke. "It's almost time, captain."

The captain looked Schmidt right back in the eye and replied. "Ah, but Mr. Schmidt, me hearty, 'tis always time..." The captain swung his left arm out across the horizon in a grand motion an cried out happily. "..._for ADVENTURE!_"

And Schmidt had no doubts that he would be right once again.


	6. Schmidt's Island: Part 2

**After Hours**

_**Schmidt's Island: Part 2**_

"What the hell are you two doing?" Bonnie uttered as he leered through the curtains of Pirate's Cove. He wasn't particularly fond of Foxy – in fact he kind of disliked him – but he and Mike had been kicking up quite the ruckus over the past half hour, so his own personal feelings would have to be put on hold for the time being.

The rabbit wasn't completely sure what to expect, but he was definitely surprised to see the night guard and the robotic fox standing on the bow of Foxy's fake pirate ship. The fox, much to Bonnie's alarm, had his _very dangerous_ hook arm slung around the youth's shoulders and his normal arm held out as if to beckon to something grand upon the horizon. Neither one of the two even glanced at Bonnie, apparently completely engrossed in whatever they'd been doing.

Bonnie groaned. "I _said_, what are you-?"

"Oh, we heard you!" Mike laughed, almost disturbingly cheerful. "We're just having a little fun, Bonnie! No need to worry!"

"Aye, rabbit matey!" Foxy concurred, swinging his arm around in his usual grandiose manner. "Me and me first mate Mr. Schmidt here be on a grand ol' adventure to th' Bleeding Isle fer gold and glory! A tale fer the ages that no wee lubber dare forget!"

Mike nodded. "Wanna join in? I think we've got room for another crew member."

The sheer number of things Bonnie found absolutely wrong with the whole scenario was so staggering that he actually had to duck out of the cove to collect his thoughts. Mike? _Really? _And _Foxy? _Playing _pirate? _How old was Mike anyway? Twenty? Older? Twenty year-olds didn't play _pirate_, Bonnie knew that much.

And of all people Mike could've done it with, did it really have to be Foxy? Bonnie knew he wasn't always the easiest person to get along with – Chica was more than willing to point that out – but he wasn't ashamed at all to admit that he liked Mike. He didn't want Mike hanging out with someone as dangerous as Foxy. Lord knew they didn't need another incident... No, no, Bonnie knew better than to think about that, and he quickly moved it out of his processor. For a moment he considered stepping in and getting Mike to leave, but thought better of it. He knew Mike and Foxy trusted each other; it would be a waste of time.

So instead he wandered off, issuing a silent prayer for Mike's well-being.

* * *

><p>"Captain, duck!" Schmidt yelled, whipping around and hurling his scimitar across the cavern chamber. Instantly Captain Foxy fell to the ground, allowing the scimitar to soar over his head and embed itself in the ribcage of the skeleton he'd been fighting. The animated creature of bone let out a bloodcurdling shriek as it disintegrated into dust. The captain took the opportunity of the reprieve to dust off his jacket as his first mate jogged up to join him.<p>

"Are you alright, captain?" Schmidt asked, concerned. "Those skeletons went down fighting."

Captain Foxy shook his head. "Nay, I be fine, Mr. Schmidt," he replied, although Schmidt could clearly see him wince in pain. Schmidt didn't see any blood, so it must have been an internal wound. "What about ye? Ye did a right bit o' fightin' also. Let yer cap'n check on yer health."

"Well, I took a pretty rough cut to the arm," Schmidt admitted, moving his left shoulder toward his captain to show a cut on his upper arm. It wasn't too deep, but it looked like it hurt badly, and Foxy winced at the sight of his prized first mate injured, even a little.

"Hold out yer arm, matey," Foxy ordered, unclasping his cape from the latch on his neck cuff and swiftly ripping off a strip. Like a well-oiled machine the captain wrapped the strip around Schmidt's wound and tightened it. "Still hurtin'?" The first mate made a 'so-so' gesture with his hand, and Foxy leaned back and nodded. "Aye, good. Stick t' yer right arm, then. 'S yer bett'r arm anyway."

"Of course, captain," Schmidt nodded obediently.

"And stick close t' me 'till we be done here," the captain stared down at his first mate with almost frightening intensity. "I lost plenty o' good men already, I ain't losin' ye."

And with that, Foxy strode deeper into the cave, his first mate following obediently all the way.

* * *

><p>In the back of his mind, Schmidt offhandedly tallied all the obstacles that he and the others had overcome to reach this point. During the month-long voyage alone there had been the storms, the rival pirate crews, the kraken (Schmidt prayed once again for the loss of his comrades), and the long, cold nights spent lying in the cramped underbelly of the <em>Red Fox,<em> and the less he thought about that, the better.

The Bleeding Isle itself was no better. Apparently the aforementioned 'blood' turned out to be a strange natural acid that dyed the waters around the isle dark red, hence the name. It nearly ate through the hull of the ship before they were finally able to dock in a safe location. But the damage had been done, and it had required every man the ship had (minus Foxy and Schmidt himself, of course) to stay behind and repair the ship, and hopefully scout out a safe route away from the island.

So only Captain Foxy and Mr. Schmidt had been able to enter the cavern that would hopefully lead to the legendary treasure, and after countless diabolical traps and strokes with death, they had at last reached their goal.

And it was worth it. Oh, _God_, was it worth it.

The heart of the cavern was enormous, large enough to fit a small fleet of ships with ease. And it was filled to the brim with treasure. It was like a small lake in its size, and deep enough in parts that the captain and his first mate would sink up to their waists in gold and jewels. Schmidt couldn't even begin to calculate the trove's true value, just trying made his head ache fiercely. It would be more than enough, though. With all of the treasure in that chamber, every single man aboard the _Red Fox _would be rich beyond measure. It was the kind of fate a pirate could only dream of, but here he was, and it was _real. _

"This... this be a right helluva somethin', aye Schmidt?" Captain Foxy whispered. He was every bit as stunned as Schmidt had been. Turning to look at the captain, Schmidt could almost see the light reflecting off the gold and into Foxy's eyes. It was a beauty beyond compare.

"...It is, captain," Schmidt nodded. "And it's ours. It's all ours."

"I see ye be the type ta jump ta conclusions a wee bit ta early."

Schmidt and Foxy could feel their skin crawl at the sound of the voice. It was thick and oily, and practically dripping with venom. The kind of voice one only hoped to hear in nightmares. But worst of all, they _recognized _that voice.

"No... no way," Schmidt gasped.

"Can't... it cannae be..." Foxy whispered in horror. As one the two pirates turned to face the other side of the treasure-laden cavern, from where the voice originated.

The man they saw there was a man they both prayed they would never see again.

"...That's... impossible," Mike almost whimpered. "Y-you're..."

**TO BE CONCLUDED...**


	7. Schmidt's Island: Part 3

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**After Hours**

_**Schmidt's Island: Part 3**_

_Previously on _After Hours_..._

_ Schmidt and Foxy could feel their skin crawl at the sound of the voice. It was thick and oily, and practically dripping with venom. The kind of voice one only hoped to hear in nightmares. But worst of all, they recognized that voice. _

_ "No... no way," Schmidt gasped. _

_ "Can't... it cannae be..." Foxy whispered in horror. As one the two pirates turned to face the other side of the treasure-laden cavern, from where the voice originated. _

_ The man they saw there was a man they both prayed they would never see again. _

_ "...That's... impossible," Mike almost whimpered. "Y-you're..."_

* * *

><p>"Dead?" The voice seethed hatefully. "Ye <em>wish <em>I be dead. Then ye _poor, dead crew _could get a li'l revenge, aye?" A chilling laugh sliced through the air and rattled Foxy and Schmidt's bones. "Nay, I don' die so easy, savvy? Between th' two o' ye and me, I needed a li'l _revenge _of me own. After all, I ain't just going ta fergit th' duo who tried ta _burn me alive_."

To the horror of the first mate and captain, a dark shape emerged from the shadows and strode through the gold sea toward them with frightening ease. It was as though all the treasure surrounding the figure wasn't hampering it at all. Schmidt prayed desperately that the figure before them was not who they believed him to be, but as the figure drew close he realized that those prayers were for naught.

The man before them was tall and broad, built like a tree. His entire right arm was covered from shoulder to fingertips in thick white bandages, and he was garbed in a light gray tunic and vest with growling bear-shaped epaulets on either shoulder. In the midst of the golden sea, the light almost made the pirate himself appear golden. But it was a dark and muted gold, not the pure, bright gold of treasure. No, this was a menacing gold, the kind that would draw you close... and then end your life without remorse.

But it was the man's face that froze Foxy and Schmidt's blood. It wasn't a particularly frightening face on its own; in fact with its rugged appearance and well-kept black hair, one might even call it handsome. But it was the man's expression that was the truly horrible sight. Those pitch-black eyes, constantly dark even when all the light in the world shone upon them, the razor-sharp teeth that were more fangs than anything else, drawn into a savage visage. There was no humanity in that face.

His name was Darren the Killer, and he'd developed a... _reputation _of sorts as a slaughterer of his own kind: pirates. Foxy and Schmidt had met him firsthand about a year ago, before either of them had heard the rumors, and it was a dark time in their history. With their guards down, Darren had easily killed a third of the _Red Fox's _crew before he'd been discovered.

Schmidt could still remember the look upon his captain's face when he'd seen the lifeless carcasses of his crew strung about the ship. That look of utter despair and hatred was something Schmidt hoped he'd never see again.

The ensuing fight was one of the most harrowing that Schmidt had ever been in. As it turned out, Darren was a monster in combat, fighting on even long after he should have by all rights been dead. He'd almost killed both Foxy and Schmidt that day – of course they were no strangers to threats to their lives, but Darren's brutal efficiency was probably the closest that they'd ever been to death. In the end, Foxy tried to end the fight by setting the building on fire, killing all three of them. It was highly unlike him, but Schmidt knew that he was desperate, and he probably would've done the same thing. But Schmidt wasn't the kind of person to lie down and accept death so easily, and he managed to escape with his captain while Darren was left to burn.

That had been a year ago, but the two swore that they would never forget what they had allowed to happen. It was especially hard on Foxy, who loved his crew like his own flesh and blood. Schmidt made sure to keep a careful eye on his captain ever since that day. It was a hard burden to shoulder along with his own, but the knowledge that the monster was dead made it a good deal easier.

Except that he wasn't dead. No, he was here, and perfectly fine. Schmidt couldn't believe it. Rather, he didn't want to. The idea that this-this _monster _could still walk the earth after all the lives he had stolen was just wrong, even repulsive. And yet that feeling of anger gave Schmidt strength, strength enough to push down his fear for the man before them.

"You got what you deserved!" Schmidt shot back at the man, surprising even himself. Foxy gave him a concerned look, but Schmidt brushed it off. "You... you killed our crew, Darren! They may have just been pirates to you, but to us they were family! To _him_-" Schmidt gestured to his captain. "-they were family!

"So don't talk to us about revenge! After what you did to us, you don't have that right!"

Darren was quiet for a moment, but to Schmidt's horror he just smiled even wider. "Interestin'. So tha's how ye feel. Well, lemme ask ye somethin.' What makes ye any different?"

Schmidt felt like he'd been slapped in the face. "Wh-what?"

"I don' deny that I be a murderin' psychopath, boy. Hell, I be _proud _o' it. But ye be fergitten somethin' a wee bit important, boy," Darren leaned in menacingly, his sharp teeth glistening in the treasure's light. "_Ye _be a pirate too. And I bet ye done a good deal o' killin', jus' like me."

Schmidt opened his mouth to reply, but Darren's words had struck deep. Yes, he _had _killed people before, probably people who didn't deserve it. Was he really in a position to talk? He didn't want to believe it, but maybe he and Darren really weren't so different. Was there someone out there... who saw him as a monster too?

Suddenly in a blur of motion, Darren whipped forward, bearing a bloodstained cutlass in his left hand. He slashed at Schmidt's throat...

Only for another sword to intercept his just centimeters from Schmidt's neck. It was Captain Foxy's blade, and the captain slowly pushed the rogue pirate away from his first mate, all the while sporting a look of unimaginable hatred in his eyes. Schmidt had never seen his captain so completely _furious _before, and if he was to be honest it frightened him.

"Ye made a mistake, Killer, when ye spoke to me first mate that way," Foxy growled. "Aye, Mr. Schmidt here be a pirate. And aye, he killed people before, jus' like ye. But I ain't about ta stand here n' let ye compare him ta yerself.

"Cuz I r'member th' first time he had ta kill a man. I saw th' look in 'is eyes after he did th' deed. And I know damn well that he didn' like it a bit." Foxy turned to Schmidt. "'M I right, Mr. Schmidt?"

Schmidt didn't enjoy the way the conversation was going, but he swallowed and forced himself to remember...

* * *

><p><em> It had been almost a year after he'd been inducted into the crew of the <em>Red Fox. _The ship was in port for a few days so that the crew could get some much needed rest. Most of them had headed straight to the bar and Schmidt, finding no better option, chose to follow. _

_ After a few hours had gone by Schmidt decided to leave the tavern for a walk – he hadn't drunk anything, he just wished to stretch his legs – when a hulking, very much intoxicated buccaneer had stumbled out of the shadows and into his way. To this day Schmidt wasn't entirely certain about what the man wanted, because all of a sudden he lunged for the young Schmidt and wrestled him to the ground, cuffing him on the mouth when he tried to cry for help. _

_ All of a sudden the man pulled the shattered remnants of a bottle out of his satchel and held it like a dagger just inches from Schmidt's eye. The young privateer was petrified, and rightfully so. He didn't want to die, much less to a barely coherent mess like this! Time seemed to slow down for Schmidt as he reflexively reached for his cutlass. He'd rarely used it before, not wanting to truly harm anyone, but this was a different situation. _

_ Schmidt thrusted the sword forward in panic... _

_ And then... _

_ It was all a blur from there. The next thing Schmidt remembered, some of the other crew members found him curled up on the ground in a puddle of blood that was not his own, trapped in a borderline catatonic state. Foxy wasted no time in trying to coax the young man back into consciousness, coming by his room every day to speak gently to him, to reassure him that _he _was the victim and that he'd done nothing wrong. Even so, it was almost a month before Schmidt even spoke to anyone. Bringing himself to just touch his sword again took even longer. _

_ No, he was not glad that he'd killed that man, no matter what the circumstances. Even now he still had nightmares about it. He probably always would. And ever since then he tried very, _very _hard to avoid ever killing anyone ever again. _

_ ...Wait, was... was that was Foxy meant? _

_ How he and Darren were different...?_

_ Of course..._

* * *

><p>Schmidt opened his eyes with a blaze of emotion. There was pain, certainly. But more so there was a steel that wasn't there before. "Yeah... that's right, captain," Schmidt mumbled inaudibly at first, but then he cleared his throat and spoke up just a little louder. "Captain, I understand! And... you're right!"<p>

Foxy grinned broadly, then broke the clash between his and Darren's swords with a kick to the other man's stomach, sending him stumbling for just long enough for the captain to rush to Schmidt's side.

"Ye, alright now, Mr. Schmidt?" The captain checked, and Schmidt nodded. "Aye, tha's good." To Schmidt's surprise, the captain then gently placed his left hand on his shoulder (his right hand was a hook, mind). "Now ye listen ta yer captain, Schmidt. I been watchin' ye from th' minute ye set foot on me ship. I've seen yer ins and yer outs, what makes ya tick and what don't. Ye used ta be nothin' but a swabbie, a real spineless kid. Hell, I even r'member a couple o' people who didn' want ya around. Said ye didn' got what 't took ta be a pirate.

"But I kept ye around, and I watched ye close. And over time ye grew. Stronger, smarter, tougher – ye became a real buccaneer." Foxy chuckled briefly, then continued. "That's part o' why I wanted ya ta be me first mate. If ye could go from a two-bit pickpocket ta a first-rate pirate, then that makes ye somethin' mighty special, Schmidt. And I'm proud ta tell ye that ye haven' let yer captain down since.

"So don' ye ever fergit this, Schmidt. Yer _nothin' _like Darren. He ain't a pirate 't all, jus' a vile beastie. But ye got a heart, and 'ts a damn good one. I be proud ta call ye me first mate, and me friend."

Schmidt's overjoyed smile warmed the captain's heart. "Aye, captain. Thank you for that," the first mate beamed genuinely.

Foxy nodded and turned back to face the enemy before them, who'd been watching the whole affair with nary a slip in his beastly sneer. "Draw yer cutlass, matey! We got a keelhaulin' ta do!"

"Right!" Schmidt snapped to attention and slipped his blade from its sheathe as Foxy did the same.

"Ah, sweet revenge," Darren sneered. "How long I've awaited... ta taste ye!" In a flash the dread pirate whipped into a ready stance and rushed forward through the golden sea to meet the duo.

Foxy and Schmidt readied their blades...

* * *

><p>"Yahhhhh!"<p>

_CRASH! _

Mike struck the floor pretty hard, bringing the stanchions surrounding Pirate's Cove down with him. The night guard groaned and lay still. Everything hurt too much to move just yet.

Freddy got to him first. "Jesus, Mike! Wha's all th' ruckus here?!"

"Ugh... sorry, Freddy. Kinda slipped." Mike groaned and winced.

"On a dry floor?"

"On the Pirate's Cove stage," Mike corrected the bear. "It's surprisingly slick."

"Oh, for the love of-" Mike heard Bonnie's annoyed voice ring out from nearby as the bunny's glowing eyes came into view. "On the ground _again_, Mike? Is this gonna be a thing with you, because I'm _not_ about to keep coming by to pick you up."

Mike pulled himself into a sitting position. The pain was subsiding now, fortunately quite quickly. "No, no. I was just hanging with Foxy and I kinda fell out of the stage."

"Playing pirates, I hear?" Chica's voice cut in, completing the trifecta of regular animatronics. "If this is gonna happen a lot, at least give us some warning so we know ahead of time."

"'S your body okay, boy? Do y' need t' take a breather?"

"Guys, it's nothing. Just got my feet twisted around," Mike stood up to stress his point. "I've been hurt worse, trust me. I'm fine."

"Alright, just, uh... be careful, okay?" Chica asked.

"Guys, I'm always careful. Don't worry-"

"No, seriously, Mike. Be _careful._" The chicken warned Mike ominously, and then wandered off again. Bonnie followed suit shortly after, and Freddy stuck around for a while to make sure the human would be fine before leaving himself. It was confusing to Mike, to say the least. He was nothing if not careful, working here for the past two weeks had guaranteed that. And what was there to be careful about?

Shrugging it off, Mike climbed back into the Cove. The story wasn't over just yet, after all. There was still the big final battle before the _Red Fox_ could haul off all the treasure and make the crew members as kings in their wealth.

It was fun to just play around sometimes, Mike had to conclude.


	8. Cupcake Crush

**Got this one out nice and fast. Enjoy!**

**After Hours**

_**Cupcake Crush**_

Mike leaned back in his chair as he flicked through the security cameras on his laptop. With his and Foxy's pirate adventures concluded for now, the guard had thought it prudent to take a quick break from fraternizing to check up on the place. He _was _a security guard after all, and he wanted to at least be able to say he was doing his job.

Indeed, it was a different sort of experience checking the cameras from the dining hall and not the security booth. For one thing, it was so much less claustrophobic. The booth was nice for when Mike had to constantly keep an eye on the doors for the animatronics, but there were times when the small space he had to work in was just as bad as the paranoia that came with the job. Out here it was nice and wide, with plenty of places to sit down and kick up his feet... not literally, of course, because then Freddy would come and chew him out over messing up the layout of the place, a subject he was oddly OCD about.

Then again, if Mike were in his shoes, having to do the same thing over and over for – was it coming up on fifty years now? - he probably would've developed some quirks too.

Of course, it was plenty dark and spooky in the main hall, but Mike had a flashlight for that.

Sighing contentedly, Mike shifted from the entrance hall cameras back to the dining hall ones. He'd actually started developing something of a habit where whenever a camera passed over him, he'd acknowledge it. Nothing too special, just a grin, a thumbs up, or a thumbs down would suffice. Maybe this time he'd flip the camera off...

But as the camera passed over Mike he couldn't help but notice a large shape standing directly between himself and the camera. Was that Bonnie? And why was he standing directly over Mike?

Wait a minute...

Fighting back the urge to look up from his laptop, Mike gritted his teeth as threateningly as he could. "I swear to God, Bonnie. If you're standing over me waiting for me to look up so you can scream in my face, I'll tear your eyes out," he growled, hoping to dissuade the rabbit.

Instead, Bonnie just chuckled. "Big deal. I can do that on my own."

Perplexed, Mike looked up from his laptop before he could stop himself. Fortunately, the bunny didn't try anything. He just kept looming over the man. "Wait, seriously?" Mike asked.

"Yeah. Gimme a second," Bonnie turned around and brought his hands to his face, apparently clawing at it, whilst Mike just watched. A few seconds later, Bonnie finally whirled back around...

And he _had no eyes_. Mike's heart stopped dead as Bonnie gazed at him with two horrifying black abysses where his eyes should have been. It was a visage Mike recognized well, one that had haunted his nightmares ever since he'd seen it during his second day. Mike managed not to scream, but he did let out a loud whimper at the sight.

That only made Bonnie laugh even more. "Ha ha! Never gets old, I swear!"

Mike's heart rate began to slow down after a while, and he was about to give the machine a piece of his mind when deep in the soul-sucking holes he saw a tiny pinprick of light. At first he thought he was just freaking out, but then he realized that they were real. Against the rabbit's shouts of protest Mike thrusted his hand into the eye holes to feel around and eventually realized that the points of light were each tiny LEDs at the back of Bonnie's eyes.

"Bonnie, why do you have LED lights in your head?" Mike questioned as he removed his hand. "I can't imagine they'd illuminate much."

"Yeah, they don't," Bonnie replied, a bit annoyed at the human. "I need to have _these _in." He held up his eyes.

"How does that work?" Mike asked.

"Dunno, it just does," Bonnie answered, popping the eyes back into their sockets. "Maybe I really should scream in your face a little. Get myself some revenge for sticking your hand in my eye."

"Bonnie, me putting my hand in your eye was _my_ revenge to _you_," Mike stated flatly. "So now we're even."

The rabbit snarled softly. "You weren't so cocky when you were in the booth screaming like a little girl when I took my eyes out before."

Mike started to answer, but his voice caught in his throat as he realized what Bonnie had just said. "Hang on, you only do that when you're backstage. How could you hear me from all the way across the restaurant?"

"What do you-" Bonnie began, but cut off as his eyes widened and his face split into a grin. "Oh, you don't know yet. You so don't know yet!"

"Know what?"

"Eh, ask Chica," Bonnie waved the question away and started ambling off before stopping once more. "Specifically, ask her about the cupcake."

* * *

><p>"The cupcake?" Chica cocked her head oddly at the guard.<p>

"Bonnie told me to ask you about it," Mike replied, standing in the doorway to the kitchen. "You carry that thing around everywhere, right? Isn't it just a cupcake?"

Chica fell silent, then looked down at Mike with an expression that Mike could only interpret as shame. "Uh, I'm not exactly sure how to tell you this, but... you know that other cupcake in the guard room?"

Mike raised in eyebrow. "Uh, yeah. Why?"

"Well, I was hoping Freddy already told you this, but we kinda sorta... hid a camera in it." Chica spoke quickly.

"A... camera?" The guard blinked.

"Yep, it's linked to mine-" Chica gestured to her cupcake, which she'd set on a counter. "-and it lets us watch you through it. We use it to find out how the endos in the guard room are keeping us out and change our tactics to beat them."

Mike stood still as a statue for a while, eye twitching violently. "Excuse me for just a moment," he whispered in an eerily calm tone as he strolled out of the kitchen, grabbing a skillet on the way out. Chica watched him leave, worried and a little curious about his intentions. She got her answer when not two minutes later the sounds of distant screams, curses, and smashing sounds echoed across the entire restaurant. Peering out of the kitchen doors Chica could see that Bonnie, Freddy, and even Foxy were staring in the direction of the security booth from where the sounds were originating.

Several minutes later, Mike walked out perfectly calmly and handed the now-dented skillet back to the chicken. "Might wanna buff out those scratches."

And with that, he grabbed his laptop and strolled off into the hallway, blissfully ignoring the stunned looks of the animatronics that followed.


	9. Five Guys at Freddy's

**50 reviews?! Just... wow. That is awesome. When I was starting out on this site I could only dream of having that many reviews, and I'll admit it's kind of a low number, but I'm honored nonetheless. Thank you all so, so much. I promise that in return I'll keep trying to write stories that you can enjoy.**

**After Hours**

_**Five Guys at Freddy's**_

Mike stood up from his quick one-hour nap and yawned, stretching his arms out wide. He cracked his neck and rubbed his eyes gently to rouse himself before sliding his phone out of his pocket and turning it on. Its light was bright, and Mike had to cover his eyes for a moment, but his eyes adjusted quickly enough and soon he could read the time.

5:44.

"Closing time," Mike sighed to himself. He wandered back into the dining hall and met the familiar visage of Freddy. The bear had finished sorting all the tables and chairs and was standing back up on the stage, holding his microphone and grinning as he did every day on stage. If Mike didn't know better, he might have thought that the bear was just a lifeless machine.

"Closin' time, boy?" Freddy drawled.

"About fifteen minutes," Mike nodded. "How'd you know that?"

"Been doin' this here song n' dance fer years, kiddo. Ah know when th' song's windin' down," Freddy replied. The robot bear then leaned into his mike and spoke, his already deep and booming voice amplified even further. "BONNIE! CHICA! 'S CLOSIN' TIME! GIT ON OV'R HERE!"

"Coming!"

"On my way!"

The two responses sounded out from the kitchen and the left hallway. In less than a minute, the two other animatronics had stepped into the dining hall and back onto the stage. Before long Bonnie was holding his guitar and Chica her cupcake, just as they always did. Mike couldn't help but smile at the image. He couldn't explain it. Maybe it was because the sight, which used to fill him with such great terror, was no longer frightening to him. Now it was almost saddening, like he was saying goodbye to a good friend.

"So Mike, I gotta ask," Chica asked from her place onstage. "How was your first night with us? Enjoy yourself?"

"Well, he certainly enjoyed himself with Foxy," Bonnie sniggered.

"Play nice, Bonnie," Freddy admonished the rabbit before turning back to the guard. "Well, don' keep us waitin'. Good time?"

Mike opened his mouth to answer, but then stopped and pondered the question more thoroughly. Yes, he did have a good time. At the very least it was much better than he'd been expecting. It was wonderful just how warmly all the animatronics had accepted him when they knew precious little about him. Now that he stopped to look at them closer, Mike couldn't help but see the machines as sort of a family.

Chica was cheerful and upbeat, looking out for Mike and the others in a playfully pushy way. She was kind of like a few of the female friends Mike had made growing up. She might have even been a big sister kind of girl. Mike was an only child so he couldn't have known for sure what having an older sister would be like, but Chica certainly fit his image of one quite nicely.

Bonnie was gruff and sometimes rude, but ultimately meant no real harm to Mike or any of the others. After all, if Bonnie didn't consider Mike worth caring about, then why would the rabbit have listened to his desire to leave the booth? And why would he have helped Mike instead of scaring him back in? Although the rabbit would never admit it out loud, Mike was certain that Bonnie was just as happy as the others to have Mike around. He was a true big brother figure, Mike decided.

Foxy was as loud and boisterous as the pirates that he was modeled after. In the end though, Mike knew that he meant as little harm as any of the others. He was actually kind of childlike in his own goofy and imaginative way – the pirate adventure that Mike and Foxy had cooked up was more than enough proof of that. Mike would have hard a tough time explaining it to anyone else, but when Mike was with Foxy he felt like he really could do anything, even sailing across the seven seas for real and not in his mind. Nothing was too 'unrealistic' with Foxy around, and the little kid inside Mike kind of loved that. He was... like a crazy uncle.

And of course, Freddy was the dad. The way he kept the other three in line and made sure the restaurant was in perfect condition every night made it impossible for him to fill any other role. Still, it just felt right. Freddy was the leader, after all. If he turned out as anything but a dad it just would've felt wrong. Furthermore, Mike could tell that even though they'd only known each other in person for a brief time, Freddy cared for him just as much as he did the others, and he was grateful for that. He really was.

A father, an uncle, a big brother, and a big sister. There were no two ways about it, that was definitely a family. Kind of a bare bones family, but a family nonetheless. And Mike was glad that he could be a part of it.

Finally, Mike smiled warmly and nodded in the affirmative. "Yeah, it was fun. I can't wait to do it again."

Bonnie and Chica grinned in response, and Freddy let out a deep chuckle. "Happy t' hear, m'boy. See ya soon."

Mike nodded and turned to leave, but stopped dead in his tracks. There was still one thing left to do. He checked his phone.

5:53. There was still time.

Turning quickly to the right, Mike jogged over to the roped-off Pirate's Cove and leaped up onto the stage. Gently pushing the curtains apart, Mike was greeted by Foxy's glowing eyes. "Ahoy, Mike. Don't it be near closin' time?"

"Yeah, there's about five minutes left," Mike responded. "I've already said my farewells to the others. I just wanted to make sure I got to say good-bye to you before it was too late."

Mike smiled. "I had a lot of fun with you tonight, Foxy."

Foxy's eye patch flipped up as his jaw dropped – or maybe it was just unhinged, Mike wasn't sure. Either way, Foxy quickly pushed it back into place. "Really? I... I mean, yer darn right 'ts been a good time, matey! Ain't no cap'n capable o' givin' a good time like Cap'n Foxy!"

Mike laughed. "Yeah, that's right. You're the best of the best." Then he sighed. "I don't really know how to say this, but... it's been a really long time since I've gotten to just do something fun, responsibilities be damned. Honestly, it made me realize that I really missed doing wacky stuff like that. Growing up I was kinda short on friends, so I sorta missed out on the chance to have fun with others like that.

"And of course, you can't really do crazy stuff for no reason once you're older. People tend to look down on that. Not gonna lie, Foxy, growing up sucks sometimes," Mike looked down at his hands and twisted his fingers a little. "I guess what I'm trying to say here is that, well, this was nice. It was fun to just shut my brain off for a while and be a little kid again. So... thanks, Foxy."

Mike turned to face the animatronic fox once again... but received no response. The fox was frozen like a statue, as though his movements the past night were all a dream. Mike checked his phone one last time.

6:02. He'd overshot the mark.

Mike sighed in disappointment. Had Foxy heard what he'd just said? He hoped so, he'd put a lot of feeling into that little speech.

"...Thanks a lot," Mike whispered with a gentle smile on his face.

* * *

><p>Just as he'd done for the past two weeks, Mike Schmidt unlocked the front door and stared out into the morning air. It was still very much dark out – unsurprising, given that it was November – and Mike could feel a familiar tiredness in his muscles. But this time it was different. It used to be a relieved sort of fatigue, a gladness that whatever higher power there was had decided to let him live for just one more night.<p>

Now? It was more of an... anticipatory fatigue. He was tired, certainly, but he was also excited. Excited, for the first time in his life, that soon enough he'd be back. Back to see his new friends once again.

_Friends_. It was ridiculous. For weeks these machines had tried to _kill _Mike. He'd have sooner seen them melted down into slag than become their friend. Hell, he'd have sooner melted them down himself. But he'd just spent the past three hours with them, talking to them and even playing with them. And he couldn't wait to do it again.

That was friendship, wasn't it?

Yeah... it felt really good.

_Friends. _

For the first time in a long time, Mike Schmidt left work with a smile.

**And that's all she wrote. Leave a review on the way-**

**I'm sorry, I couldn't resist. Don't worry, this story's only just beginning! **

**In truth, I want to make it to at least fifty chapters before I even consider ending this story. If I feel like I can keep going I will, but I want to make it to at least fifty. I think if I can get that far, I'll be able to end this tale with no regrets. **

**So I'll keep trucking away. And you just keep reading, okay? **

**Tomorrow's Hero, signing out.**


	10. Teeth

**This one's a little more serious than the past chapters. I hope you like it.**

**After Hours**

_**Teeth**_

Even from in the dining hall, Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica could hear Mike shouting from inside the security booth. It was a shock to all three of them; they'd never known Mike to be the kind of person to raise his voice so suddenly. Whatever was happening in that booth must have been quite out of the ordinary. Unfortunately, it was too far away for them to pick up anything distinct.

"What do you think's going on in there?" Chica asked the other two animatronics. They both shrugged, at a loss for words. "Maybe we should go check on Mike. He sounds kinda freaked out."

"Nah, that's not it," Bonnie shook his head. "Listen closer. He keeps yelling, and then pausing for a bit. I think he's talking to somebody. Sounds kinda angry, too."

"Of course you'd know that," Chica scoffed. "Big-eared show-off."

Bonnie whipped to face the chick. "_What _did you just call me?!"

"Cool yer heads, both o' ya," Freddy snapped. Chica and Bonnie both opened their mouths, but at Freddy's disapproving glare immediately closed them again. The bear then turned back toward the security booth, from where the noises were emanating. They'd actually been going on for a while now, almost fifteen minutes by Freddy's estimate. He was starting to become a little concerned, and while he knew that Bonnie and Chica probably wouldn't admit it, they probably felt similarly. So of course he had no choice but to investigate.

"Ah'm headin' over t' check up on th' boy. You two stay here and do some cleanin' up fer a change. And don' jus' start yellin' at each other, cause ah'll hear ya." With that, Freddy made for the East Hall, the same place he always tried to enter the security booth from, at least until Mike came along.

As he drew closer Freddy could hear Mike's voice becoming clearer and more legible. Just as Bonnie had predicted, Mike was yelling, and quite angrily at that. The bear peered into the booth as far as he could without drawing too much attention to himself, but Mike wasn't focused on him at all. He was on the restaurant phone, apparently in a remarkably heated discussion with whoever was on the other line.

"I know the history, but I _need _this job!" Mike paused for a moment as the other person shouted back – Freddy could almost hear them even from outside the booth. "Well I'm liking it here just fine!" Another pause. "I _know _that! But I don't exactly have a lot of options right now!... Oh, I'm _so _sorry! I'm only trying to hold down a job here!... I told you, I got fired!... I don't _know _why, they didn't tell me anything!... I could make a few guesses!... I'm sorry, but for the last time, that's _not HAPPENING! _Goodnight!"

The guard slammed the phone back down onto the receiver, then threw the phone down on the floor before getting up and stalking around the cramped room, muttering some rather unfriendly and borderline obscene things at not inconsiderable length. Freddy was more than a little surprised at Mike's current state but remained silent and unseen. After a while the human seemed to tire of wandering around and settled back into his chair with a deeply unnerving growl.

It was then that Freddy finally decided to show himself. "Wha's grindin' yer gears, boy?"

Mike leaped up from his seat a bit in surprise, but quickly recovered and turned to glower at Freddy. "How long have you been standing there?" He grumbled.

"Couple a' minutes, not long nuff t' figure anythin' out," Freddy shrugged. "Care t' throw ol' Freddy a bone?"

Mike opened his mouth to fire back at the bear, but managed to catch the words in his throat before they could be spoken. It was tempting, he admitted, to be snarky or rude to Freddy. After all, Mike was in a pretty rough mood. But it wouldn't have been right. Freddy had been kind enough to let Mike hang out with him and the other three robots a couple of nights ago, and Mike intended to repay that kindness however he could. Yelling at Freddy, no matter what his feelings were, could only damage things between them.

But Mike _was _pretty angry, and he didn't fully trust himself to avoid saying something he'd regret later. So he took a long, deep breath and replied as calmly as he could. "Freddy, I'm sorry but... could you please just leave me alone for a while? I'm too pissed to talk to anyone now."

Freddy was surprised but simply nodded. "A'ight. You know where t' find me."

And then he left, leaving the guard alone with his thoughts.

_About twenty minutes later... _

"...Hey...can we talk?"

The three animatronics turned to face the voice (Chica, who was in the kitchen, popped her head out through the doors), and were at least mildly surprised to see Mike. The guard's face was a composed mask, but he had an agitated air about him as though the slightest trigger would make him explode.

"Somethin' on yer mind?" Freddy spoke up.

"Uh...yeah, actually," Mike sighed. "Sorry about what happened back there. You couldn't have caught me at a worse time."

In response, the bear reached down and pulled a chair from its rightful place under the table. "You wanna sit?"

Mike nodded and swiftly slid into the plastic chair, settling down nicely. Freddy pulled out the next chair and sat down on it. The chair groaned under the bear's weight, but ultimately held. "That was my mom," Mike began. "She's never exactly been okay with me working here. I think at first she was expecting me to quit pretty fast, but now that I've been here for a while she's trying to be a little more forceful."

"And what exactly is 'forceful?'" Bonnie asked.

Mike sighed. "She's been... telling me that if I don't quit she'll make me move out of the house... I mean, it's not really gonna happen," he added quickly upon the shocked gazes of the animals around him. "She's just bluffing, and even if she isn't Dad would never let her go through with it. But that's not exactly stopping her."

A silence prevailed for a while after that. The animatronics silently pondered the thought of Mike having to leave his job. He'd been the first real human guard that they could remember. The rest had all been endos, and for some reason they always either disappeared after a night or two or broke down when they were put back into their suits. It really was frustrating, that quashed feeling of joy at getting a new friend. Maybe that was why the pizza place hired a human guard, to keep themselves from losing more endos. If that was the case, then it was a damn good thing that Mike had managed to convince them that he was human.

Eventually Mike continued speaking. "I mean, I _do_ understand her point. It's not like this place has had any shortage of bad publicity, what with the missing people and the Bite of '87 and... other things," Mike finished after a slight pause.

But something that he had said registered in the animatronics' memories. "Oh, you know about the Bite?" Chica asked forlornly.

"Not a whole lot, but I know enough," Mike nodded. A couple of days into his first week on the job he'd done a little research on Freddy Fazbear's, and even knowing about the animatronics'... _quirks,_ he'd been more than a little freaked out by what he'd found. Apparently there'd been years of unsolved missing persons reports, all of whom had worked as night guards at the pizzeria when they'd vanished.

The place chewed through guards like there was no tomorrow, and almost all the surviving ones had been reported making calls to the police, news, and pretty much anyone who would listen about killer animatronics. They were almost entirely ignored, and a few people were even institutionalized.

Yet accurate information about the Bite of '87 had turned out to be surprisingly scarce. At least, important accurate information was; there were plenty of eyewitness testimonies but they all either said the same unhelpful details, or too many versions of the really important details. What Mike had been able to decipher was that the day had been July 25, 1987 (Culinarian's Day, appropriately enough), the time had been around midday, a fairly large-scale party had been in full swing at Freddy's, and that the victim had been a kid, specifically the birthday kid.

And from there the details varied, sometimes wildly. Apparently the shock of the incident had done a number on the memories of the bystanders, because very few accounts had been identical. All four animatronics had been fingered separately as the culprit, and according to some accounts they'd actually been working together. Mike was smart enough to weed out the particularly ridiculous theories, but that still left a lot of plausible testimonies that he just couldn't work through. Personally Mike had decided long ago that the attacker was probably Foxy – the pirate had uniquely sharp teeth, and it would certainly explain the closed down Pirate Cove, as well as his unusual state of disrepair.

Regardless, the Bite of '87 had been an enigma for some time, and all Mike had been able to go on so far were some unreliable stories about the incident and Phone Guy's message from day one. As much as Mike hated to admit, he was curious, and the fact that at the moment he was speaking to three unknown witnesses who might have been able to divulge some new truths on the matter was... tempting. But at the same time he was aware that it was probably a painful memory for the animatronics, so it was a conflicted kind of curiosity. Should he take the risk and ask some questions? Or should he remain silent until they told him themselves?

As it turned out, he didn't need to decide. "You're curious, aren't you?" A voice pierced through Mike's thoughts, snapping him back into reality. That was... Bonnie's voice, right? Mike turned to the rabbit, and apparently he had guessed correctly because Bonnie continued speaking. "I can see it written all over your face. You wanna ask some questions, don't you?" His tone was a little edgy, but otherwise hard to discern.

Mike paused in thought for a bit before nodding his head. "I'm sorry. I know I have no right to ask this, but I've been trying to figure it out myself for weeks now and I'm at a loss here. And now the answer could be right in front of me and I just..." The guard paused, struggling to find the right words. "Look, if the answer's no, then I swear I'll understand. I'll never ask again if that's what you want, but right here, right now, all I want is to know, even if you can only tell me a little."

The animatronics all stared at Mike for a while once he finished. For a moment Mike considered apologizing and taking back what he'd said, but he was pretty sure that it wouldn't erase the act. Finally, after an agonizing wait, Freddy slowly turned and walked away, gesturing for Bonnie and Chica to follow him. The other two were confused, but tailed their boss as they wandered backstage, leaving Mike alone once more.

The guard didn't know what to think anymore, but as the minutes passed he could feel a strange mix of guilt and dread bubbling up inside of him. Had he just nuked his friendship with Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica? Is that why they'd all wandered backstage? Damn it... he should have just kept his mouth shut. He should have just explained about his mom and then dropped the subject entirely. There hadn't been any need to go further, and yet he did, and here he was. What an idiot...

Blinking back tears, Mike got up to return to the guard room and stay there for the rest of the night. Maybe tomorrow he'd get to fix things with the others.

At least, that was the plan...

"Mike?"

Mike turned at the sound of the voice and saw, much to his surprise, that both Chica and Bonnie had returned and were walking toward him. What were they up to?

"Freddy wants to see you backstage," Chica spoke up. "He said he wants to talk."

Mike raised an eyebrow. "About?"

"Not our place to answer that," Bonnie piped up. "Just go. Don't worry, he's not mad or anything."

The guard took a deep breath and hesitantly walked toward the backstage door. Was Freddy really planning on explaining anything to him?

Or did he have... other intentions in mind?

* * *

><p>Surprisingly, Mike's first reaction to being backstage for the first time was less unimaginable terror, as he'd expected, and more "I wonder if Phone Guy's in one of those suits." For a moment he thought about checking the suits just to see, but decided against it. Management probably cleaned him out long ago.<p>

_Then _the terror set in.

It was logical to be terrified – after all, this was where the older guards were dragged to and shoved into an empty suit. Mike had spent a fair amount of time thinking about what kind of death that would be like. If Phone Guy had been right, and if Mike's mechanical engineering degree wasn't failing him now, the inside of those suits were all stuffed with so many crossbeams and wires, and while it was certainly necessary to make them work it left no room in any of them for the body of a good-sized adult.

And that part about his eyes and teeth being all that would be left... He wouldn't just be cut up, he'd be _juiced_. The metal crossbeams and wires were in such a tight space that his blood would just be squeezed out of him like juice from a fruit. And his body? Crushed into a bloody pulp.

Mike shivered. What kind of death would that be? He couldn't imagine it would be fast. Did the guards suffer for long? What was it like, having your blood just drained out of you like that? Mike could feel himself trembling, his knees weakening. Would that happen to him tonight?

Wait, where was Freddy? Oh God, where was-

"'Ello, Mike."

_"PLEASE DON'T KILL ME!" _

The next thing Mike knew, he had gone from standing to flat on the floor in no time flat, hands over his head and sobbing like a baby. He didn't even care how pathetic it looked, he was terrified.

"Please don' kill me?"

The words broke through Mike's terror-induced catatonia, and the man looked up through tear-stained eyes to see a pair of white-and-blue disks floating in the air above him. Freddy's eyes, Mike realized.

"Please don' kill me?" Freddy repeated, every bit as incredulously as before. "Did you really think I was gonna kill ya? Why the Sam Hill would you think that?" The bear's face darkened suddenly. "Did Bonnie and Chica say somethin' ta screw wit' yer head? I'll give 'em a right talkin'-to, I swear it..."

"N-no, no, that's not it," Mike stammered quickly, his voice still thick with tears. Drying his eyes as best he could, the young man stood to face Freddy eye-to-eye. "I just... I remembered something the guard before me said. This place is where all the guards were brought and killed." At the end of his explanation Mike tensed up, half-expecting Freddy to freak out upon being told about the fates of the animatronics' previous victims.

However, Freddy instead raised a bushy eyebrow and stared at him oddly. "Killed? Nobody was killed here, boy. We just bring th' endos in here to put 'em back in their suits. Fat lot o' good it does us, o' course. They just keep breakin'. Maybe we're tryin' to shove 'em in wrong..." As Freddy drifted off into his musings, Mike was forced to deal with the frightening realization that none of the animatronics were aware that they'd been killing real live people. Honestly, he'd figured that glitch got ironed out when he'd modified their programming, but apparently it only meant that they saw _him _as human, not the earlier dead guards.

For a moment Mike debated telling Freddy the truth head-on, but chose against it. He was nervous enough being back here, he didn't need Freddy freaking out on him. "So, why did you bring me back here anyway, Freddy?"

"Hm?" Freddy looked over as if he'd forgotten Mike had stood there. "Ah, right. Forgot about that." The bear suddenly strode forward and gently placed a massive paw on Mike's shoulder. The human was startled, but Freddy's haunted gaze made any attempt to question him die in his throat.

"You have to understand, m'boy, that this ain't exactly easy to talk about. I don' mind tellin' ya that Bonnie n' Chica were dead against it, but if yer gonna be one o' us... Well, y' gotta right to know th' truth."

With a chill, Mike understood immediately what the bear was speaking of. "The Bite, right?"

Freddy nodded. "It was, ah... some twenty-seven years ago, I reckon," the bear began. "Middle o' July, hot enough t' cook a whole carton o' eggs... or so I heard. Anyway, there was a party goin' on – not just some two-bit gatherin', naw. This was a jamboree. A real biggun.

"Now before I continue, somethin' you should prolly know 'bout Foxy," Freddy digressed for a moment. "See, when Bonnie, Chica and I were up there on th' stage, singin' th' blues, Foxy liked to get on out o' his cove n' stroll around the place a bit. Kids didn' mind, o' course. They loved 'im, no lie. So th' people in charge o' this establishment never really tried to keep 'im in his cove. Give the kids what they want, y'know.

"Anyhoo, it was a big ol' fiesta and kids, y'know, they get rowdy. Yellin', throwin' stuff, 's just how they are. Foxy was takin' quite th' beatin' out there, kids yankin' on him and spillin' stuff all over him. I mean, I felt bad, but I couldn' exactly get off th' stage n' help. Th' show was goin' on.

"Lookin' back, I..." Freddy paused. Mike wasn't sure, but he could guess that the bear was having trouble going on. He was just about to open his mouth, to tell Freddy not to continue, but Freddy raised a paw. "Not a word, Mike. You said y' wanted t' know and I ain't about to leave ya hangin', no matter how hard it is." Properly chastised, Mike closed his mouth, allowing Freddy to continue. "Now where were we...

"Yup, got it. Right around th' end o' th' show, Foxy started actin' kinda nutty. Got all slow and jerky, started talkin' nonsense, kids prolly got somethin' in his gears they shouldn' have. Anyway, th' restaurant wheeled out a big ol' cake for th' birthday boy n' Foxy was hangin' out nearby. Th' kids started chantin' for a big "Happy Birthday" from Foxy, but..." Freddy drew to a stop and hung his head. Mike made no attempt to speak this time, however. Freddy had held onto this for, what, twenty-seven years now? That was three years longer than Mike had even been alive, and he certainly couldn't imagine how painful it had been for Freddy to have to keep in inside all these years. So he stayed quiet, just waiting for the bear to find the strength to finish.

And eventually, Freddy did. "People stopped comin' fer a good while after that, so I got t' spend some time havin' a chat with Foxy – more like interrogatin' him, actually. Claimed he didn' remember anythin'. Still does t' this day. I mean, I believe him, but it don' make anything easier," Freddy sighed. "And I'm sure ya know th' rest."

Mike was stunned. He didn't know what he'd been expecting... but this was just horrible. He was right – it _had _been Foxy who committed the Bite, and yet that knowledge gave him no sense of joy or relief. To live for twenty-seven years in total isolation like Foxy had to... Mike would have gone mad, of that he was sure. And the others didn't even have anyone else to talk to about it, so they had to bury it however they could.

They had to forget the memory of their lost friend. Mike couldn't stand the thought of that either. The Bite hadn't just hurt Foxy, it had hurt everyone. And that kid... was he even still alive? Mike knew little about medicine or biology, but he knew enough to know that it was very, very unlikely.

He felt like he had to say something, but what? What was he supposed to say to something like that? I'm sorry? Thank you for telling me? Everything felt wrong. He was starting to wish that he'd never asked Freddy anything.

"...I don't... I don't know what to say," Mike whispered at last, fully aware of just how pathetic it must have sounded.

But if Freddy thought the same, he didn't show it. Instead he pulled the young man into a sudden hug, gripping him gently against his chest. "You don' gotta say anythin'," Freddy reassured him. "I'm jus' glad you were willin' to listen, to be th' person I could finally talk to about everythin'. Thank ya, Mike."

Mike was shocked, but hugged Freddy back wordlessly. It had been no problem at all.

Freddy finally let go some time later, but he didn't let Mike leave right away. "Mike, I got one more thing to ask ya, a favor o' sorts. Hear m' out, 'kay?"

Mike nodded.

"Good boy," Freddy smiled, cleared his throat and continued. "I know that ev'rythin' I jus' told ya prolly changes things between us. I'm fine wit' that, and I'll work howev'r long it takes t' earn yer trust back. But I need ya t' promise me one thing, Mike.

"Promise me... that ya won' treat Foxy any different."

Mike raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Alright, but why would you make me promise that?"

"'Cause howev'r Bonnie, Chica and I feel 'bout him, he's been alone for too long," Freddy answered solemnly. "I know he puts on a brave face, but I'll be darned if it hasn' gotten t' him, even a little. He loved th' kids, Mike, and 's been some twenty-odd years since he's been out o' his cove to see any of 'em. He likes ya, boy, and believe it or not yer the kind o' guy he needs. Someone who'll put up with 'im and his tomfoolery and jus', well, be his friend. 'Cause Lord knows he needs a friend." And Freddy ended his speech, waiting patiently for Mike's answer.

But he didn't have to wait long. "Of course I won't treat him any different," Mike spoke quickly and resolutely, a look of passion on his features. "If he's really been through all that B.S., then of course he'll need someone to talk to. I'll admit I'm kinda shaken by what you've told me, but I know Foxy's not a murderer. He's a great guy, and I'm glad to have him as a friend. Maybe it won't be so easy, but I can make myself put up with it. If it's for Foxy, I think I really can."

Freddy grinned massively and let out a deep laugh. "Yer a good man, Schmidt. You really are. Now let's get on back to th' others. Kept 'em waitin' for a while now."

And with their fears alleviated, the two left the dark backstage room at last.


	11. Jam Session

**I do not own the song used in this chapter. That right belongs to Avicii.**

**After Hours**

_**Jam Session**_

"Alright, I think you've all got it down," Mike beamed up to the animatronics up on stage from his seat before them, and received similar smiles in return. "Just a few quick notes before our last run-through," Mike pointed to each animatronic in turn. "Freddy, the song pitches up at the end of each chorus, so don't forget that. Chica, make sure not to come in early this time. Bonnie, I'm certain that there won't be any big problems this time around, but there are then just keep powering through – that actually goes for all of you.

"And for the last time, I'm _sorry _that the song doesn't have three verses like every other song in the world. I didn't write it." Mike turned to the seat next to him, where Foxy sat staring up at the stage like it was the most important thing in the world. "Foxy, any other comments you've come up with?"

"Hmm?" Foxy turned to his human friend, briefly confused but catching up quickly. "Ah, nay, nay. Ye put together a fine show, lad."

Mike nodded and turned back to the three on stage. "Okay, whenever you guys are ready."

Mike was proud of the animatronics. Earlier that night, when they'd heard him humming a little tune to himself as he checked the cameras, they'd all been curious. Understandable, given that the only songs that the animatronics ever played were the same songs they played twenty years ago. Music had evolved a lot since then, and Mike was disappointed to see that his friends were so out of touch.

So when they had asked him to teach them to perform that song he'd been humming, Mike had been surprised but receptive. He'd never really thought of himself as a teacher, but if they really wanted to learn, then who was he to stop them?

And it hadn't exactly been easy. As fast as the animatronics were capable of learning, they were far from perfect and often made mistakes at first. Bonnie in particular had a nasty habit of immediately stopping when something went wrong, and Chica was always coming in way too early. But they'd slowly started overcoming those weaknesses, and now Mike had to admit that they put on a pretty good, if not stellar performance, especially considering they'd only been practicing for a few hours. There was still some room for improvement, but Mike was certain that they would be just fine.

The three animatronics up on stage all looked to each other and nodded in assent before turning to face front once more. "Cue up the song, Mike," Bonnie called out.

Mike pulled out a remote and turned on the onstage speakers, giving the animatronics a thumbs-up. Within seconds a fast-paced guitar melody began reverberating throughout the dining hall, and Bonnie quickly began strumming along to match it. After a few seconds, the guitar died down and Freddy stepped forward to sing.

_Feeling my way through the darkness_

_Guided by a beating heart._

_ I can't tell where the journey will end,_

_ But I know where to start._

Mike could feel his head bobbing along to the beat.

_They tell me I'm too young to understand._

_ They say I'm caught up in a dream._

_ Life will pass me by_

_ If I don't open up my eyes._

_ Well that's fine by me._

Now it was Chica's time to join in. She had a tendency to come in a beat or two early, so Mike was a bit worried. However, she came in with perfect timing, her voice blending with Freddy's, and Mike felt himself relax.

_So wake me up when it's all over._

_ When I'm wiser and I'm older._

_ All this time I was finding myself and I_

_ Didn't know I was lost._

_ So wake me up when it's all over._

_ When I'm wiser and I'm older._

_ All this time I was finding myself and I_

_ Didn't know I was lost._

Freddy and Chica's voices died out, and that rapid guitar beat started up once again. Mike had to give Bonnie credit; it was a difficult beat to follow, and yet the rabbit had picked it up with surprisingly little trouble. As far as Mike was concerned the only real danger was that Bonnie would make a minor error and then completely stop again. It was a bad habit of Bonnie's, most likely brought on by a lack of confidence uncharacteristic of him. Mike had made certain to address it as best he could, but his only real advice had just been to "just keep going." It was up to Bonnie to put it into action.

And apparently fortune was shining on the pizzeria, because Bonnie finished the guitar solo without event. It was Chica's solo now.

_I tried carrying the weight of the world,_

_ But I only have two hands._

_ Hope I get the chance to travel the world,_

_ But I don't have any plans._

Freddy joined back in for the next quartet of lines.

_Wish that I could stay forever this young,_

_ Not afraid to close my eyes._

_ Life's a game made for everyone,_

_ And love is the prize._

And then the bear and bird catapulted into the second chorus together, backed by Bonnie's skillful guitar playing.

_So wake me up when it's all over._

_ When I'm wiser and I'm older._

_ All this time I was finding myself and I_

_ Didn't know I was lost._

_ So wake me up when it's all over._

_ When I'm wiser and I'm older._

_ All this time I was finding myself and I_

_ Didn't know I was lost!_

Freddy went for the high note and hit it perfectly. That was another thing Mike had been afraid of, but it seemed he'd been underestimating his friends.

And as Freddy continued to sing alone, the song neared its end...

_ I didn't know I was lost!_

_ I didn't know I was lost!_

_ I didn't know I was lost..._

_ I didn't know... I didn't know... I didn't know..._

Freddy finished his part, and Bonnie began playing the long guitar solo that led to the end of the song. Without realizing it, Mike began to clap along to the beat. Foxy, having only one good hand, simply struck his hook against the exposed metal on his chest. It kind of dented the metal and tore up the fabric on his chest even more, but the fox was too happy to notice. Plus, Mike could probably fix it later.

Finally, Bonnie struck the last note and the song came to an end. Mike stood up and started applauding, and Foxy whooped loudly. The three animatronics bowed to their two-man audience before setting their instruments down and coming down off of the stage.

"So, how'd we do?" Chica grinned.

"How'd you do?! That was great!" Mike praised the robots vehemently. "I can't believe it only took a few hours for you guys to learn that song so well!"

"Yeah well, when you spend twenty years playing the same songs over and over, you kinda jump at the chance to try something new," Bonnie snarked good-naturedly. "But seriously, this was pretty fun. Can't wait to do it again."

"Assumin' you wouldn' mind teachin' us some more songs, son," Freddy added, his statement pulling double time as a question.

Mike had to give the proposition some thought. The night had been one of interesting discoveries, both for the animatronics and Mike. The thought of teaching the animatronics new songs to perform was something Mike had never even considered; it just never seemed practical. They took a long time to rehearse, and even then there was no real chance that the robots would ever get any opportunity to perform what they'd learned during the day. At least not without raising a lot of questions.

And yet these last few hours had been both fun and surprisingly rewarding. Teaching, Mike had learned, was tough but gratifying. At the end of it all he felt good about all he'd done, regardless of whether he'd ever be known for it. And his friends were so happy to learn more about the world as it was today... maybe he really could keep teaching them new songs now and then, if not every night. Hell, maybe he could teach them other things as well. He'd be... Mr. Schmidt, teacher. He liked the sound of that.

Mike grinned. "Well, it'll take some planning, and we certainly won't be able to do anything on a nightly basis, but... maybe a couple of nights a week or so we can work something out."

All four animatronics cheered at Mike's words. Surprisingly, Foxy was the loudest. "Ha ha ha! Good ta hear, boyo! Lettin' Cap'n Foxy show off 'is talents, smartest idea I ever 'eard!" Without warning Foxy swung his arms out wide and started belting out a painfully off-key rendition of "A Pirate's Life for Me." Everyone else winced and covered their ears, but the fox's yowls still slipped through the gaps between their fingers.

Still, Mike couldn't help but laugh out loud at the sight, and even the other three animatronics all chuckled. If this was what he had to look forward to, Mike thought, teaching probably wouldn't be so bad.


	12. From the Hands of Babes

**This story's been recommended on TVTropes! *cheers wildly* It's been my dream for that to happen! Thanks, everybody!**

**After Hours**

_**From the Hands of Babes**_

It was a sudden streak of curiosity that had led to Mike finding the pictures. He'd just gotten himself situated into the guard room for the night, as he'd done many times before, when he noticed the desk in a way that he never really had before. Of course, that wasn't to say that the desk had magically appeared overnight, but for the first time Mike actually perceived it instead of glossing over it.

It wasn't a particularly notable desk, but it was well-structured enough to do its job nicely. Mike was more interested, of course, in the contents of the many drawers built into it. Pulling them open, the guard was disappointed to find that they were for the most part empty, save for a few stray pens and empty manila folders.

But there was one drawer that bore fruit. Naturally, it was also the last drawer that Mike bothered to check. Mike pulled it open eagerly and was mildly surprised to see a folder that was not empty but rather thick and bulging with paper contents. Gingerly pulling the folder from its resting place, Mike set it down on the desk with an audible 'thud' and flipped it open.

A crayon drawing met his eyes. It was old, as evidenced by the darkly yellowing paper it was drawn upon. It wasn't exactly a good drawing, probably done by a five or six-year-old. In fact Mike could just barely make out the big purple bunny ears that Bonnie possessed. At least, he _thought _they were ears. Maybe they were arms? Either way, the drawing had a name scrawled at the bottom: Caleb.

A quick rifling through the contents of the folder showed Mike that the rest of the papers were pretty much the same as the first; a bunch of old crayon drawings. There were actually some really good ones mixed in with the rabble – at least, as good as they could be for little kids. The guard had to admit, it was an interesting surprise. He knew from experience that visitors to Freddy's were always given crayons and encouraged to draw what they pleased, but he never knew what happened to the pictures after the animatronics collected them. Were these all the pictures? Probably not, Mike decided. The restaurant had been open for a while even before things started to go downhill, so there were likely lots more drawings than just the ones in the one folder.

Closing the folder, Mike couldn't help but wonder if the animatronics knew about these drawings. Very few of them, Mike noticed, looked new, which made sense considering all the bad rap the pizzeria had been getting over the years. The Bite, the dead kids, the missing guards...

How the hell was this place still open?

Mike brushed his musings aside and made a decision. The drawings may have been old, but they were a reminder of a better past for the establishment; a time untainted by the scandals that would befall it. Mike knew that despite their upbeat attitudes, all four of the animatronics were hurting inside. They loved the kids, and nowadays they so rarely got to see and befriend any of them. But this folder just might make them feel a little better. Even if it would just be a little, it would be more than enough satisfaction for Mike.

Folder under one arm, he turned to walk out of the booth.

**SCREEEEEEEEE!**

...But first he was going to murder that fox.

* * *

><p>"Was that you screaming?" Bonnie chuckled as Mike wandered into the dining hall, gently shaking his right hand. Foxy followed in behind him, massaging his jaw and moaning in pain.<p>

Mike nodded grimly. "Foxy was being clever. Apparently, my reflexes kinda kicked in and, well..." The guard held his hand forward, revealing an ugly bruise on his knuckles. Freddy winced at the sight and walked off, claiming that he was getting the first aid kit.

"Aye, why'd ya hafta hit me?" Foxy whined. "I was jus' havin' a lil' bit o' fun!"

"Your 'fun,' Foxy, is what's been keeping me up the past two weeks," Mike sniped back. "I've got a life outside of here, and the fact that I'm jumpy as all hell during the day because I don't get much sleep doesn't help one bit. I don't mind you having fun, but please make sure it at least doesn't involve triggering any past traumas of mine, alright?"

Defeated, Foxy nodded, and Mike softened. "Look, I'll check out your jaw later. For now, I've actually got something to show everybody." Mike collapsed into a chair and flopped the folder down on a table. Bonnie, Chica, and Foxy all crowded around to see better, and Freddy soon joined them, medical kit under his arm.

"You... wanted to show us an old folder?" Chica inquired skeptically.

"I think he wants t' show us what's _in _th' folder," Freddy corrected the chicken, before striding over to Mike's side. "Show me yer hand, boy." Mike obliged, and Freddy started to wrap it with bandages from the kit.

"Freddy's right, actually," Mike continued, turning his attention back to the other three. "I found this thing in the desk from my booth and, I don't know, I guess I just thought it would be a nice surprise to show you."

"Well, don't leave us hanging!" Chica tore the folder open... and burst out laughing upon seeing the top picture. Mike and the others leaned over, and to Mike's dismay it was the poorly drawn picture of Bonnie that he'd seen before. He'd set it right on top and forgotten about it.

"It looks- it looks just like Bonnie!" Chica shouted joyously, bent over with her hand placed on a nearby table for stability; she really _was _laughing that hard.

For once, the rabbit was at a complete loss for words. "What- wh- you - that looks _nothing_ like me!" He shouted indignantly. "I mean, yeah, it's purple, but look at my arms! My arms are not that long!"

"Those be yer arms?" Foxy wondered. "I thought they be yer ears."

"Me too," Mike chimed in. Chica just laughed even harder, and Bonnie fumed silently. Still, Mike knew it would be best to defuse the situation quickly, and so he flipped through the pages until he found a more flattering drawing of the rabbit. "If it helps, Bonnie, this one's actually not so bad."

Bonnie took the new picture and stared at it for a little while, his aggravated expression slowly shifting into a more thoughtful, even tender look. "This is... kinda cute, actually," Bonnie admitted. Foxy reached for the picture with his good hand, but Bonnie slapped it away, clearly not done savoring what Mike had shown him.

"There should be other nice ones in here. Wanna dig through 'em?" Mike offered.

"Sounds fun."

"Pass 'em 'round, me hearty!"

"Don' keep us hangin'."

"Nah, I'm good."

At the four responses, Mike slid the folder into the center of the table, and the group eagerly began pulling drawings from it. It wasn't long before everybody was laughing at the many, many depictions of the four robots. They learned pretty quickly that Caleb, whoever he was, was _far _from the worst artist of the bunch. None of the four animatronics were safe from the group's heckling, not even Freddy, but none of them could really get angry about it; it was all in good fun, after all, and it would hypocritical for any of them to hold a grudge when they were laughing along too.

"Oh, God! Guys, look at this one!" Mike thrust out a paper with fervent energy. Bonnie grabbed it, and the other animatronics crowded around him.

"Oi, that be Chica, aye?" Foxy asked, cocking his head.

"Yeah," Bonnie replied. "And that's – Oh, God, is that... is that _Freddy?!_"

"Ohhhhh, _yes._" Mike purred.

"Why? What's happening?" Chica demanded. Bonnie bent his arm back over his shoulder to hand Chica the paper, flashing the biggest grin any of the robots had ever seen him with. Chica took it and after a full five seconds of staring at it did the wildest full-body take Mike had ever seen. "B-b-b-b- what _is _this?! What are we _doing?!_" The chick shrieked, sending Bonnie into hysterics.

"Lemme see. 'S got me innit, right?" Freddy plucked the page from the frozen Chica's hand, and after one glance threw it back on the table as though it was on fire. He turned to stare at Mike with scarred eyes. "Mike, listen t' me. You take that there paper home wit' ya, and you burn it t' ashes, y' hear me? _Ashes_."

Mike, Bonnie, and Foxy all collapsed with laughter.

* * *

><p>"I think that's the last of 'em," Mike sighed at last, tossing the final drawing back into the folder. "You guys enjoying your portraits?"<p>

"Shhh, you're distracting us," Chica shushed the human offhandedly, not even looking away from her drawing. Amusingly, the other three animatronics were each looking at other drawings in the same enraptured way. Apparently, they'd all grown quite attached to Mike's gift, and each of them had found a favorite picture of themselves to enjoy. Honestly, Mike thought it was comical, not that he would say it out loud... right then.

He was about to close the folder when something else caught his eye. It was a drawing that he didn't immediately recognize; he must have passed over it without paying it much attention. And yet something about it was... familiar. Not that it was _good_, per se. It was a drawing of two figures; one of them was a small orange stick figure with a simple smiley face, and the other was a large brown blob with stumpy arms and legs, as well as an animalistic head and what appeared to be some kind of hat.

Mike squinted at the picture. Something about it was tickling the back of his mind... but what was it?

He flipped the picture over, and on the back was only one word.

But the instant the guard read it, everything fell into place.

_ MIKEY_.

Mike flipped the paper back over and stared at it in horror and revulsion. "Oh _God_," he groaned.

"Lemme see," Bonnie responded, snatching the paper out of Mike's hands without even looking at him. The rabbit took a long, hard look at the picture... and then wordlessly handed it off to Foxy.

Who handed it to Chica.

Who handed it to Freddy.

Who stared oddly at it. "...So, uh, what d' y'all reckon this is s'pposed t' be here?"

"Aye, look upon th' back," Foxy spoke up. "It seems there be a-"

"A name," Mike finished, burying his face in his hands. "Just look and get it over with."

Perplexed, Freddy turned the page over and recited out loud the name written upon it.

"Mikey."

As if they were puppets dancing upon the same string, all four animatronics turned to stare at the night guard, who by this point was looking up at them in nervous anxiety. Unfortunately, Mike just couldn't catch a break, because all four of his friends collapsed as one into hysterical laughter. Foxy fell to his knees, Bonnie started smacking the table, and Chica doubled over entirely. Even Freddy couldn't hide his chuckles.

"Okay, forget that other picture of Bonnie, THIS is the greatest thing ever!" Chica gasped.

"Oh, hell yes!" Bonnie agreed loudly. "Seriously, Mike, how old were you when you drew this thing? Two?"

Mike opened his mouth to snap back immediately, but waited just long enough so that he wound up stopping to think about it first. How old _had _he been? Not very, he knew that much. He definitely couldn't have been older than seven; he'd been about seven years old the last time he'd set foot in Freddy Fazbear's as a customer. So he was probably...

"Around five... I think," Mike replied at last.

By that point, Freddy had finished laughing, and the other three were starting to die down. "A'ight, settle down, y'all. That's enough laughin' fer now." The bear turned his attention back to Mike. "But I gotta ask. Who's th' fella here? Me?"

Mike racked his brain for a moment. "Actually, if my memory serves... I think it was Foxy."

Foxy perked at the sound of his name. "Me? Well, I be flattered, me hearty, but I don' think ye were really usin' yer eyes back then."

"Tactless as he may be, he's got a point," Chica added. "No offense, Mike, but this looks nothing like Foxy."

Mike shrugged. "Yeah, well, I never actually _had _seen him when I created that." Upon seeing the animatronics confused looks, he elaborated. "Look, when Foxy committed the- when he was locked up in Pirate's Cove-" Mike began, then backpedaled. He remembered how Freddy had told him that Foxy bore no memories of the Bite, and he really didn't want to aggravate a giant metal fox with a hook hand. As it was, Foxy was already looking peeved. "-I hadn't even been born yet – it was three years after that. So by the time I drew this, he'd already been... 'gone' for eight years.

"But there used to be something of a tradition for the kids around here. You weren't really a cool kid until you had a birthday at Freddy's. It was kind of a rite of passage thing. So I was coming here a few times a year or so to celebrate birthdays – my friends' and my own – and I started hearing rumors running through the grapevine about a fourth animatronic – a 'pirate fox,' or so they said." Foxy looked surprised at the news. Had the kids really remembered him after so long?

"And seriously, a pirate fox?" Mike continued. "I would've given up my right arm to see that back then. So even though I had nothing to go on but some second and thirdhand info, I drew that picture." Mike finished his story with a soft chuckle. "I know it's corny, but even back then Foxy was kind of my favorite."

Mike watched as the animatronics just stared at him with thoughtful gazes. Truthfully, even he was surprised at where all that had come from. It'd been almost twenty years since those days, and yet he remembered them, and the emotions they stirred up in him, so vividly.

And then, to Mike's (and, he imagined, the others') surprise, Foxy let out a soft whimper and wrapped his arms around him in a tight but careful hug. Mike yelped audibly in surprise and tried to wriggle free, but the pirate wasn't letting go. "Foxy, what are you-"

"Mike, yer th' first person ta call me yer favorite in years," Foxy whispered. "Thank ye. Ye don' know just how much that means ta me."

At those words, Mike ceased his struggle and allowed the fox to embrace him. In the back of his mind Mike could recall something Freddy had told him not long ago.

_He loved th' kids, Mike, and 's been some twenty-odd years since he's been out o' his cove to see any of 'em. He likes ya, boy, and believe it or not yer the kind o' guy he needs. Someone who'll put up with 'im and his tomfoolery and jus', well, be his friend. 'Cause Lord knows he needs a friend. _

Had Foxy really been hurting this much? Mike hadn't really said anything special, or so he thought, and yet Foxy was reacting so strongly to it... Was this what Freddy had meant?

Mike patted the fox on his hard, metal shoulder. "Hey, don't get all weepy on me, man," Mike teased the fox gently. "It was nothing."

Foxy whined softly and kept holding on. Mike just smiled and allowed him to.


	13. Power On

**Two things:**

**First of all, many thanks to Rock Raider for recommending my story on TVTropes. **

**And second, I've been getting some inquiries as to whether or not I'm gonna cover FNaF2 at some point. I do intend to, but since we all still thought it was a sequel at the time I began conceiving it, I'm planning on writing it as a full sequel to FNaF instead of a prequel. It's still g****onna be a long time until then, though. I've got this story to finish, and I'm planning on starting an entirely different story once I've hit a comfortable point with this one (20-25 chapters, something like that).**

**Never mind all of that. Enjoy!**

**After Hours**

_**Power On**_

_ Be grateful, Schmidt. - Management _

Mike stared at the four words written on the card, still trying to wrap his mind around just what they meant. For once, management had actually come through. It had taken two weeks of almost nonstop pestering on Mike's part, starting from his very first day on the job, but he'd finally managed to make it happen.

The guard lowered the card and stared proudly down at the yellow and black machine that rested on the ground before him. Ladies and gentlemen, Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria now owned... a portable electric generator. Mike was on cloud nine – gone were his days of sweating coldly in his office, eyes flitting back and forth from door to laptop to door to laptop while his heart jackhammered in his chest so hard as to practically bust through his ribcage. He was _safe_, safe from the unholy nightmare that he'd been stuck in for the past two...

...Mike's train of thought derailed, killing dozens, before rerailing itself onto an entirely different track. Now that he thought about it, he didn't really need the generator anymore. It would have been useful back when the animatronics were hunting him, but now that they were his friends Mike couldn't help but realize that the generator was kinda useless.

Briefly stopping to consider whether this was the universe's signature style of cruel irony or the management's idea of a joke (he decided on the former), Mike sighed and tossed the note in a nearby trash can before turning back to face the generator. He'd still use it, of course – he wasn't about to just trash it after spending that much time and effort to get it in the first place, but what would he use it _for_?

It would've been nice if the pizzeria had an arcade of some sort. Most pizzerias like Freddy's did these days, especially the more new-fashioned ones, and although Mike hadn't frequented too many of them since he was kid he'd seen enough to know that they looked pretty fun. He and the animatronics could turn on _Pac-Man _or _Street Fighter _and play the night away without fear of running out of power. Getting to play with his new friends like that would be fun. But alas, Freddy Fazbear's was a pretty small place, and from what Mike had learned of the place its budget was pretty much shoestring, so that was out of the question.

So what would he do?

…

Well, no use wasting time on the problem when he hadn't even set the generator up. Glad that he'd been wearing a coat to work recently, Mike gripped the generator by the handle and wheeled it out of the booth.

For the first time, he'd be taking his shift outside.

* * *

><p>"Leaving so soon? You just got here." Mike turned to see Chica leaning against the wall, watching him. For a moment he thought she was accusing him of something, but she didn't <em>sound <em>angry, at least not to Mike.

The guard shook his head. "Nah, management finally pulled through on that generator I've been begging them for. I have to go outside to set it up."

Chica looked at the machine with piqued interest. "Generator? What's it do?"

"It's kinda hard to explain in detail," Mike began. "But basically, it generates electricity. If I can hook it up outside – and I know I can, I've checked – then ideally it'll keep the pizzeria running so that we don't have to worry about using up all of our power." Chica nodded in understanding. Mike had wound up letting the power run out a couple of times back when the animatronics were still hunting him, and it was a real nuisance. How was she supposed to cook without her ovens?

"Hey, you, uh, wanna come along?" Mike asked suddenly, and even he was surprised at the suggestion.

Chica hesitated, but ultimately shook her head. "Nah, Freddy'd blow up at us if we tried to leave. We've talked about it with him in the past, and he always brings his foot down pretty hard on us. But good luck anyway." Chica turned and left Mike alone with the generator, but the guard didn't stick around for long. Lugging the generator behind him, he carefully unlocked the front door and stepped out into the frigid midnight air. He had a job to do.

* * *

><p>"Alright, that looks like everything," Mike mumbled to himself. With the generator all set up, Mike picked up the tarp that had lain against the restaurant's outer wall and draped it gently over the generator, covering it nicely. Stepping back to admire his work, the guard became aware of the chilly air causing him to shiver. He couldn't help but think that this November had been especially chilly compared to the last few. And to think that December was just around the corner. And by the end of the year... Freddy Fazbear's would be out of business.<p>

Mike's heart sank. It was strange to think that this place would be closing soon. After all, it had been around for over thirty years, and in those thirty years Mike was certain that the restaurant had brought a smile to countless children and created so many happy memories. All of the scandals in the world couldn't cover up the joy the robots had brought to the children, and they certainly wouldn't cover up the joy they brought him. That thought ignited a strange determination within Mike, and without wasting another second he strode back through the front doors of the restaurant.

Relocking the doors behind him, Mike strode through the empty hallways – apparently, Chica had relocated – and into the dining hall, weaving around tables and chairs to reach the door leading backstage. The guard raised his flashlight as he stepped into the dark room, and a cursory sweep of the place revealed that the main breaker was attached to the wall right to his left. Mike walked over and flipped it open, scanning the switches carefully. It looked like all of those engineering courses he'd taken in college would be put to good use once again.

Spotting the utility main and generator main switches, Mike carefully flicked the former off before switching the latter on. All that was left was to turn on the loads. Mike eagerly but cautiously parsed the loads to determine what they powered, and one by one he flipped them on, making sure to pause for a couple of minutes between each one, just in case. After flipping the last switch Mike swung the breaker's cover shut, grinning triumphantly. So what if he didn't, strictly speaking, need the generator anymore? He could think of some other way to utilize the power. Maybe he'd be able to do something with the animatronics that he couldn't do before, like watch a movie or play games with them.

And so what if this place was closing down soon? He'd make that time count.

"Hey, guys!" Mike hollered out the backstage door and into the restaurant. "I've got a surprise for you!"


	14. What Do You Do With A BA in ME?

**First of all, Happy Thanksgiving, everybody! Hope you all had a good Thursday!**

**Second, seriously, 100 reviews?! *dies of joy* Thank you so much, everybody! I can't believe this story's gotten so popular! It means a lot to me, it really does.**

**Third, a cookie to anyone who gets the title reference.**

**After Hours**

_**What Do You Do With a B.A. In ME?**_

_East Hall... nothing. _

_ Kitchen... noises. Must be Chica. _

_ Pirate's Cove... Foxy's peeking out. Same as usual. _

_ Backstage... hmm. Bonnie _and _Freddy. Freddy doesn't usually go back there. Are they talking? Wish I could get audio on these things. _

_ Now that I look closer Bonnie seems kinda down. Wonder what that's about? _

Mike shut his laptop, and the loud clapping sound cut through his thoughts and dragged him into reality. Tucking the device under his shoulder, Mike stood and weighed his options. What were Bonnie and Freddy talking about? It would probably be best to leave them be... but then he wouldn't know what they were talking about. He didn't really want to eavesdrop on them, either – no point putting himself at risk like that again. So that only left one choice, if it was even a choice at all.

The guard walked over to Pirate's Cove, ducking under the stanchions and hopping up onto the stage in one fluid motion. He pulled the curtains open and swiftly spotted Foxy's glowing eyes amidst the black space inside.

"Ahoy, Mike," Foxy greeted the man, stepping forward slightly so that Mike could see him better in the dark. "Here t' listen ta another o' Cap'n Foxy's stories?"

Mike shook his head apologetically. "Hate to disappoint, Foxy, but not this time. Sometime soon, though. I was just wondering, do you know what happened with Bonnie? I saw him backstage on the cameras and he seems down."

Foxy frowned. "Wha' makes ye think I be knowin' anythin' about th' rabbit? He doesn' talk ta me."

"Well, yeah, but I figured you might've seen or heard something through the curtains," Mike shrugged in response.

"Y'mean, eavesdroppin'?" Foxy cocked his head at Mike.

"What else would I mean?" The guard replied. "Look, I don't mean to offend you or anything, but if you know something-"

"Ah, 's fine, lad," Foxy reassured his friend. "Ah'd be lyin' if I said I ne'er caught a glimpse o' th' night life 'round here.

"Anyhoo, I did hear a li'l bit o' talkin'. Somethin' 'bout breakin' somethin'."

"...Breaking?"

"Yeh, happens ev'ry now 'n then, dunno why. Ye thinkin' o' takin' a look fer yerself?"

Mike nodded. "Yeah, just thought I'd see what I was getting into. Thanks, buddy." He turned to leave, then stopped suddenly and turned back to the fox. "Hey, Foxy? How much time do you spend in your cove during the night?"

"Th' whole time, more 'r less," Foxy replied, looking a bit puzzled. "Why?"

"Well, it's just, you can come out if you want. Nothing's stopping you."

Foxy seemed to consider that for a moment, then sighed and waved his hook hand dismissively. "Ah, wha's th' point? They don' like me anymore. Th' kids, Freddy, none o' them. They wouldn' want me-"

"_I _would," Mike cut Foxy off with a fierce glare. The fox was almost frightened by the sheer intensity in the human's eyes. "Foxy, _I _want you out there, even if they don't. Instead of hiding in here you should be out there with them. Give them a reason to like you, and if they still don't then keep trying until they do. I know it's scary, but you'll be a million times more happy with friends then you could ever be alone."

Mike stopped, and Foxy could see the fire fade slowly from his eyes as he managed to compose himself. "Look, I'm only saying this because I want youto be happy. You don't have to kill yourself over it, just think about it, okay?"

With the seeds sown, Mike turned and left at last.

* * *

><p>Mike reached the backstage door just as Freddy was walking out of it, and so the two of them almost walked headlong into each other before they were able to stop. "What's up with Bonnie?" Mike asked.<p>

"Ah, broke a string on his guitar," Freddy sighed. "Happens ev'ry now 'n then. Ah'd leave 'im if ah were ya. He'll sulk fer hours 'til it's fixed."

A broken guitar string? That was it? Mike was surprised and a bit put out that he'd been worried over something so mundanely small. Did Bonnie not know how to fix his own guitar? Probably, if he had to wait for somebody to do it for him. Most likely, a technician would come in sometime tomorrow and make the repair.

Then again, why wait?

"Yo, Freddy. The spare parts for you guys are in there, right?" Mike asked, pointing behind thebear into the darkened backstage room. It'd been a while since he'd had to do something like this, but maybe...

"Yup, why d'ya ask?" Freddy inquired, head cocked slightly in confusion.

"Oh, no reason," Mike mumbled absent-mindedly as he wandered past Freddy and into the darkness. Normally going backstage would've sent chills down his spine, but he was too focused on the task at hand to worry about that. Sure enough, Bonnie was sitting by the small table near the opposite wall, clutching his still quite intact guitar with a downtrodden look on his face. Deep down, Mike couldn't help but think the rabbit was overreacting, but he wasn't about to say that out loud and risk offending him.

"Hey, Bon," Mike spoke up tentatively. "Heard you broke a guitar string."

"Leave me alone," Bonnie groaned in response, not even bothering to snap at Mike for the nickname. Not wanting to waste time going back and forth on the matter, Mike silently strode over to a nearby cabinet on the wall and pulled it open. A quick scan located the spare strings for Bonnie's guitar, and Mike quickly removed them, along with a bridge pin puller, and walked over to Bonnie.

"Alright, show me which string broke," Mike spoke concisely.

Bonnie turned aggressively to face Mike. "I _said _leave me a-"

"Bonnie!" Mike snapped, startling the rabbit into silence. Out of the corner of his eye Mike could see Freddy ducking in, probably to check on things, but Mike focused mostly on Bonnie. "Just listen. I know what I'm doing. You may not remember it, but I've done this before. I can fix your guitar, but you have to _let _me.

"Now, which string broke?" Mike concluded. Still stunned silent, Bonnie held out his guitar and pointed to one of the strings in the middle. Allowing the rabbit to continue holding the instrument, Mike gently traced the broken string up to the head of the guitar, and then started loosening the proper tuning machine. Once the string was loose enough, Mike pulled the broken string out and turned his attention to the other half attached to the bridge. The bridge pin came out easily enough, and Mike collected the other half of the broken string.

Setting the two halves aside, Mike gingerly pulled out a replacement string and slid one end into the peg hole, reinserting the end peg to anchor it in place. Stretching the string tight, Mike held it up to the tuning peg and twisted the tuning key to wind it. Once the winding was complete, Mike stood back up to admire his handiwork.

"That should be it. Wanna test it?" Mike asked Bonnie, who nodded heartily and began plucking at the strings repeatedly. Mike had no idea if it was in key or not, but apparently Bonnie was happy, because the rabbit eventually stopped and stared at the fixed instrument in awe.

"It's... perfect," Bonnie breathed, turning to stare at Mike in amazement. "How?"

"Ah'd like ta know th' same thing," Freddy chimed in at last from hisplace at the backstage door. "If'n y' don' mind, that is."

Mike gazed at the two animatronics for a while with a difficult-to-read expression on his face – somewhere between sadness and disappointment – before seeming to register the question. "I... uh, I used to be a technician here. You guys don't remember?" He asked, although given the looks of shock on the robots' faces he needn't have bothered.

"Technician?" Freddy echoed. "Ah don' 'member seein' ya 'round here before ya became th' night guard. Yer not messin' wit' us, are ya?"

"No, no," Mike quickly replied. "It was, ah, about a year ago, I believe. I really needed a job at the time, and this place was hiring, so I went for it." The guard laughed hollowly. "After a couple of months I slipped into Pirate's Cove when no one was looking and found Foxy. The workers caught me tinkering with him and, well, I got fired on the spot. I mean, the pay was sub-subpar, so it wasn't a huge loss, but at least it was something.

"Then a couple of weeks ago, management for this place personally called me and offered me a night guard job, and I'm sure you know the rest." Mike finished, letting the ensuing silence permeate the room.

"About a year ago, huh?" Bonnie quipped after a brief while. "Makes sense, I guess. Our memories aren't _that _good. But were you ever planning on actually telling us this sometime, hmmm?"

Mike sighed. "Eventually, I swear. I was never sure how to bring it up, and it never seemed important enough to just come out and say."

"Tha's fair 'nuff," Freddy said. "'Course, Chica n' Foxy are still in th' dark 'bout it."

"We can tell them later," Bonnie replied flatly, apparently remembering his newly repaired guitar. "I gotta take my baby out and celebrate! You know any good guitar-playing songs, kid?"

"First of all," Mike shot back, voice playfully vitriolic. "Don't call me _kid_. And second, yeah, I've got plenty of songs like that." The human walked toward the doorway, and Freddy stepped aside to let him through. "Come on, Bon!"

Bonnie bristled at the sound of the nickname. "_Hate _that name," he growled, stalking out past Freddy to follow Mike.

Freddy just laughed.


	15. We'll Never Forget Phone Guy

**After Hours**

_**We'll Never Forget Phone Guy**_

*_click*_

_ "Uh, hel__lo? Hello? __Uh, well, if you're hearing this and you made it to day two, uh, congrats! I-I won't talk quite as long this time since Freddy and his friends tend to become more active as the week progresses. Uhh, it might be a good idea to peek at those cameras while I talk just to make sure everyone's in their proper place. You know..."_

Yes, he did know.

Mike nodded grimly as the recording of the guard before him spoke the words he'd already heard once before. Of course, he didn't need to actually check the cameras this time around, but the recording couldn't have known that. Still, he was sorely tempted; relistening to these old messages was a lot creepier than he'd thought it would've been, and it dredged up a lot of bad memories.

When Mike had come back to work that night he hadn't been intending, at least not at the time, to listen to the messages that his predecessor had left him. He wasn't even aware that they were still around; for all he knew they'd been erased from the phone by management long ago. Still, Mike had never been the type of person to so quickly dismiss such ideas – he wouldn't have befriended the animatronics if he was, after all – and so despite the odds screaming in his face not unlike four certain robots that he could name, Mike had opened the phone's voicemail box.

It was largely empty, which made sense – the only phone calls Mike had received since his first week were from his mother, and he'd made sureto delete them the instant he came across them. There actually were a few messages that Mike had never heard before, and he could make out a couple of the voices as people from management. They probably had something to do with the daytime guards, so Mike hadn't spent too much time on them. Scrolling back to November 8th, the date of his first night on the job, the guard had been quite surprised to see a message from that day waitingto be played.

Mike held his breath ever so slightly and pressed the 'play' button.

_"__Hello, hello? Uh, I wanted to record a message for you to help you get settled in on your first night. Um, I actually worked in that office before you. I'm finishing up my last week now, as a matter of fact." _

Mike had exhaled, only then realizing in full that he hadn't been breathing. So no one had erased Phone Guy's messages, good to know. At least, they hadn't erased the first one, but Mike was pretty sure that if one was intact, then the rest would be as well.

And indeed, they were. After Mike had finished listening to the first message, he'd moved on to the second, which was still playing._"Also, check on __the curtain in Pirate Cove from time to time. The character in there seems unique in that he becomes more active if the cameras remain off for long periods of time. I guess he doesn't like being watched. I don't know. Anyway, I'm sure you have everything under control! Uh, talk to you soon."_ The phone beeped, awaiting further commands.

Foxy not liking being watched? Mike knew that couldn't have been farther from the truth. He knew that Foxy wanted more than anything to _be _seen, to have someone around who wouldn't be afraid of him. Someone he could call a friend.

But then again, Foxy was still malevolent back when Phone Guy had been operating in the pizzeria, so as far as Mike knew that wasn't exactly relevant. Unless Foxy's yearning for attention existed even before his reprogramming... ah, well. It didn't really matter in the long run. Just some random musings.

The guard tapped the 'six' key, moving on to the next message.

_"Hello, hello? Hey you're doing g__reat! Most people don't last this long. I mean, you know, they usually move on to other things by now. I'm not implying that they died. Th-th-that's not what I meant." _

Of course not.

_"Uh, anyway I better not take up too much of your time. Things start getting real tonight. Uh... Hey, listen, I had an idea: if you happen to get caught and want to avoid getting stuffed into a Freddy suit, uhh, try playing dead! You know, go limp. Then there's a chance that, uh, maybe they'll think that you're an empty costume instead." _

Playing possum, huh? That wasn't too bad an idea; Mike had even done it once or twice before, when the power had run out and Freddyhad been playing his jingle outside the doors. Whether or not it actually helped prolong his life, Mike wasn't entirely certain, but either way he was still alive now.

_ "Then again__ if they think you're an empty costume, they might try to... stuff a metal skeleton into you. I wonder how that would work. Yeah, never mind, scratch that. It's best just not to get caught. Um... Ok, I'll leave you to it. See you on the flip side."_

Stuff an endoskeleton into him? How _would _they go about that? Mike had an idea or two, but he preferred not to think too hard upon either of them. It made him feel squeamish.

There was still one message left – two, technically, but only one that Mike intended to listen to. With a heavy dread settling deep within his belly, he pushed the 'six' key once more time.

_"__Hello, hello? Hey! Hey, wow, day four. I knew you could do it,__" _Phone Guy started again, but unlike all the earlier times Mike could detect a very nervous undertone in his voice. _"Uh, hey, listen, I may not be around to send you a message tomorrow." _

***bang bang bang***

The sound of a loud banging cut through Phone Guy's monologue, and even with foreknowledge of it Mike felt himself jump a little. It had absolutely terrified him the first time he'd heard it, and it was still plenty scary now.

_ "It's-It's been a bad night here for me. Um, I-I'm kinda glad that I recorded my messages for you, uh, when I did," _Phone Guy continued, even as the banging continued in the background.

_"Uh, hey, do me a favor." _

_ *_**bang bang bang***

_"__Maybe sometime, uh, you could check inside those suits in the back room?" _

***bang bang bang***

_"I'm gonna try to hold out until someone checks. Maybe it won't be so bad." _

***bang bang bang***

_"I-I-I always wondered what was in all those empty heads back there-" _

Mike was quite familiar with the song that began then, interrupting Phone Guy's monologue in the process; _Les Toreadors_ from the opera _Carmen_, as performed by Freddy Fazbear. His body froze in chilled anticipation. Any second now...

_"Oh no."_

An animalistic roar pelted Mike's ears before swiftly changing into static as the message ended. In response, the guard's body rippled with a forceful shiver, one that seemed to originate from deep inside of himself. That roar... he'd never heard any of the animatronics emit a sound that even resembled it. But it had to be one of them that killed the guard... right?

Mike shoved the thought out of his head before it drove him mad with paranoia, and then he exited the phone's voicemail box. There was one more message, one that had come the day after the death of Mike's late mentor, but he refused to listen to it again. He would _never _make himself listen to it.

Spontaneously, Mike lowered his head and whispered internally a prayer for the fallen guard that he never got to meet, whoever he'd been in life. Mike wasn't sure if anyone was listening, but he could feel that it was the right thing to do. Maybe one day he would go back and check inside those heads, if only to fulfill the man's last wishes. But for now, he had a job to do.

And with that burden lifted from his chest, Mike Schmidt, the guard who lived, opened his laptop and got to work.

**And that's that. Now, I won't be able to write as much for a while since I've got finals next week, so next chapter's pretty much gonna be coming out whenever. See you then!**

**Tomorrow's Hero, signing out.**


	16. Foxy's Turn

**First of all, Merry Christmas everybody!**

**Second, because I feel this needs some explanation - the way I see it, since this story starts some time in mid-November (in-universe, of course), that would mean Thanksgiving had yet to take place, so I figured, why not make a chapter for it? **

**Mike's not gonna be around for this one - there's something I needed to deal with concerning Foxy, and this seemed like a good enough time. Enjoy!**

**After Hours**

**Foxy's Turn**

_Two Nights Ago..._

_ "So, run this Thanksgiving thing by us," Bonnie said, absentmindedly tapping the tabletop with one finger. "We don't get it." _

_ "What's to get? It's awesome." Mike grinned from his seated position on the other side of the table. "I mean, you don't get to have a huge meal with your extended family every day, but Thanksgiving – **that's** the exception. Plus, my family already lives pretty far away, so I don't get to see them too much as it is. Holidays like this are a rare treat for me." _

_ "But why be it called Thanksgivin'?" Foxy asked, confused. _

_ "Well, the whole point of the holiday is to give thanks for what you're grateful for. Family, friends, your life, your job - that kind of stuff," Mike replied, counting the list on his fingers. "Lord knows I'm thankful for those." _

Especially the third one, _Mike thought privately. "Anyway, I'm sure you guys already know this but the pizzeria's gonna be closed until Monday, so you'll be alone together for the holiday weekend. I don't want you guys panicking just because I didn't show up for a few days," Mike playfully teased his friends. _

_ "It's like that every year," Chica nodded. _

_ "Yep. So don't go thinking we're about to fall to pieces just 'cause you couldn't show up for a few days," Bonnie deadpanned, no doubt in response to the guard's teasing. "You ain't all that." _

_ Mike just chuckled along with the others. He had no doubt they'd be just fine._

* * *

><p><span>Now...<span>

At the stroke of midnight, the animatronics all slowly rattled to life as they had countless nights before, working the kinks out of their metallic joints before hopping off the stage to perform their duties. At least, most of them did – there was one among them who remained in his usual hideaway.

Even if Foxy had the confidence to step out of Pirate's Cove and mingle with the others, he wouldn't have taken the opportunity just yet; he was lost deep in serious thought, and much preferred being alone for it. Besides, his problem was one he couldn't afford to cut corners on.

For the umpteenth time, Foxy reminded himself that he'd been self-isolated in Pirate's Cove for almost thirty years now, and that for better or worse he was _lonely_. Certainly Mike's regular visits were an answered prayer, but there was a part of him, somewhere deep in his mind, or processor, or whatever that didn't just want to be limited like that. He wanted friends, plural, not just one friend. And Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica were all just on the other side of that curtain...

But then, did they even want him out there? For thirty years they'd just left him in his cove to gather dust, only ever popping in briefly to make sure he was still around. How would they react if he tried to come out and hang with them now? They'd never had a problem with Foxy during his prior visits, but then again Mike had always been around too, and Foxy suspected that they'd only been playing nice for the human's benefit.

Come to think of it, Mike had always been the one to invite him to come out of his cove and play. The only exception that Foxy could recall was the night Mike had come out of his booth, when Bonnie had stopped by in his place... and even then it wasn't so much of a "hey, wanna hang out?" as it was a "hey, Mike's out here now, just so you know."

Once again, Foxy flashed back to the words Mike had told him only a few nights ago.

_ I want you out there, even if they don't. Instead of hiding in here you should be out there with them. Give them a reason to like you, and if they still don't then keep trying until they do. I know it's scary, but you'll be a million times more happy with friends then you could ever be alone. _

At the time, Foxy had been stunned by Mike's passion, amazed that someone could care about an old, forgotten pirate like himself so much. Then again, Mike was never the kind to forget about his friends. People like him were a rare breed, Foxy believed.

So Foxy took Mike's words into consideration, and he'd been ruminating upon them ever since.

...And he was still no where near making a decision.

"Aw, blast it, Mike," Foxy whined softly. "Why'd ye hafta abandon ship _now_? I need ya, bucko."

What would Mike have said, if Foxy could speak to him now? It didn't matter, Foxy realized with a sigh. Mike _wasn't _around, Foxy _couldn't _speak to him, and it was pointless to sit and bat around possibilities all night. Of course, the fox didn't exactly have anything else to do.

"Oy, Mike. Care ta throw yer cap'n a rope?" Foxy asked out loud to the dark void around him, voice tinged with desperate despair. "Me crew be a tiny thing, jus' ye n' me. There be three new mateys waitin' in th' port, but I don'- I don' know what ta do. Do I drop anchor n' talk ta 'em? Or should I keep sailin'?

"_Please_, Mike," Foxy begged, no longer even caring if no one heard or cared. "I'm at th' end o' me rope. Say somethin'! Say _anythin'!_"

_For the love of- Foxy, I thought I already went through this with you. _

Foxy yelped and sprung to his feet, looking about in an almost comical fashion. "M-Mike?! Mike, where be ye? How be ye doin' that? S-Show yerself!"

_Foxy. _

"This be witchcraft! Explain yerself! Yer cap'n demands it!"

_Foxy! _

"Unless..." Foxy trailed off, jaw dropping in horror. "Ye went ta... Davy Jones' locker!" Foxy fell to his knees and started making noises that were probably his version of sobbing. "Oh, Mike! Ye were a fine first mate, n' a finer friend! And ye were so young! I'm sorry! I failed ye as a cap-"

_FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, BE QUIET! _

Foxy immediately fell silent and shrunk back like a whipped child, still whimpering softly.

_*sighs* Alright, alright, I'm sorry. I just needed to get your attention and, well, you tend to get riled up quickly. I couldn't think of any other way to get through to you, so... sorry. _

Foxy fell silent and remained that way for a couple of minutes, but apparently the disembodied voice had finished speaking. "Mike, that _is _ye, aye?"

_Eh, not quite. I'm really more of a figment of your imagination. See, you need to talk to Mike but he's not around, so what's happening here is that you're imagining his voice talking to you, saying what you think he'd say to you in this situation – and that's me. _

_ Now normally this would qualify as some sort of mental illness and I'd recommend that you seek help, but there aren't really any specialists for robots like you. Plus, I can tell you really need someone to speak to, so I suppose we can let it slide this once. _

"...Uh, what?"

_*groan* Look, just talk to me like you would talk to Mike. I'll be his stand-in. _

"Aye, aye, Mike," Foxy nodded, still somewhat confused.

_ Alright, so what's on your mind? _

"I be... askew," Foxy began slowly. "See, I been thinkin' 'bout what ye said ta me, savvy? Gettin' out o' me cove n', uh, minglin'."

_So what's the problem? _

"...I be scared," Foxy admitted reluctantly. "I ain't stepped foot out o' me cove in o'er a Silver Jubilee until ye came ashore. I don' know if th' lubbers will welcome me wit' open arms or cutlasses in hand. I know it be yellow-bellied, but it be safe in here, n' I... I don' know what ta do.

"Please help me, Schmidt," Foxy begged. "Yer th' only man who can put yer cap'n at ease."

_...Okay, I guess I can understand all of that. It's a big change, you're scared, it makes sense. _

Foxy listened intently, uncertain of where the voice that claimed to be Mike was going.

_But – and if you don't mind me asking – do you not remember Mike's advice? You know, what he told you about how you'd be happier with them? _

"O' course I remember," Foxy sighed, waving his hook dismissively. "That be all I think about these past nights."

_It doesn't seem like you remember it. Otherwise you'd have acted on it by now. _

Foxy opened his mouth to shoot back at the voice, but anything he might have been thinking of saying never left his voice box. As much as the captain hated to admit, the voice was right. There wasn't any big, all-explaining excuse for why Foxy had yet to step out on his own and brave the storm. He was scared, and nothing more.

With the revelation came an accompanying sense of pure revulsion, one that Foxy could feel coat his entire endoskeleton. He wasn't supposed to be _scared_. He was a pirate! A captain! Captains were supposed to be fearless leaders willing to take on any adventure, danger be damned! They weren't supposed to be confused and indecisive, they were supposed to have the _answers_.

So why? Why did Foxy feel like a frightened little child? All he wanted was to curl up into a ball and cry until everything bad went away. For the first time in his memory Foxy was grateful that Mike wasn't around – he'd never forgive himself if Mike saw him the way he was now.

_...Foxy? What's wrong? _

"...I-I'm scared."

And then the pirate captain broke out into even greater sobbing than before, bringing him to his knees as his entire body shook furiously. It was humiliating, Foxy thought, but he just couldn't bring himself to care.

He had _failed_. Mike had been counting on him to make the right choice, and he'd too paralyzed by fear to do anything so he just hadn't made the choice at all. That thought tore at Foxy now; he'd shamed himself, made the most cowardly decision possible when Mike had put solid faith in him. How would he be able to face him when he returned from his vacation? It was bad enough that Foxy couldn't show himself around the other robots, and now he had to do the same with the one person who accepted him, and so wholly!

_Hey, calm down! Foxy! Don't cry! _

"But I... I'm a _coward_!" Foxy whined. "I couldn't... I couldn't even do what Mike asked! I'm no captain! I'm barely... barely even a swabbie!"

With that final declaration of self-loathing, Foxy dissolved back into wordless weeping for some time. The voice was silent, and Foxy could only imagine that it had tired of him and left without so much as a farewell. Of course, that just made it hurt even more.

Finally, when Foxy could feel that he'd cried as much as he was able to, the voice cut back into his mind.

_Feeling better? _

Foxy yelped softly. "You're still - still here?" He cursed himself internally for the involuntary hiccup, but apparently the voice paid it no mind.

_Of course I'm still here. I'm doing what Mike would do, and he sure as Hell wouldn't just leave you like this. Now then, I'd like to start with some advice of my own, okay? _At Foxy's nod, the voice continued. _Don't __**ever **__talk about yourself that way again. Don't say it to yourself, or to anyone else. Don't even think it, because it's __**not true.**_

_ You think it's bad to be scared? Foxy, __**everybody's **__scared. Hell, Mike was scared back before he met you guys for real. There's nothing weak or shameful about being afraid, it just means you realize that you're not perfect. What's shameful is when you give in to your fear and don't even try. _

"But... but I _didn't_ try," Foxy protested, but he knew immediately that it was a weak argument.

_You still have the opportunity, though. That's all you need. As long as the opportunity is open to you, you can honestly say that it's not too late to overcome your fear. _

_ Look, I know that as a disembodied voice within your head, I don't have any real control over what you say or do, but I wanna support you the same way Mike's been supporting you. You __**deserve **__to be happy, Foxy. _

"I... deserve it?" Foxy whispered.

That thought... had never crossed his mind. Not even once in the twenty-seven years he'd spent holed up in Pirate's Cove. He remembered back when his cove had been closed down, how Freddy and the others had burst in and shaken him down for hours, yelling at him for the "Bite of '87," or so they called it. Foxy didn't have any concrete memories of something like that, but after spending so long alone he'd stopped caring about such details – they all thought he was guilty, and eventually he came to believe it.

Maybe that was why he refused to take such a chance after so many years; criminals were locked up, after all. This was... just his sentence.

But Mike... Mike didn't think like that. He didn't see someone who deserved to be locked up for some long-past crime, but a lonely soul who needed someone to stay with him. Foxy could remember how they had first met – the captain had slipped into the guard room while Mike had drifted off to sleep, and when the human awoke Foxy had been right there to greet him with a cheerful 'ahoy!'

Mike was a _**very **_loud screamer, Foxy then discovered.

But before too long Foxy had convinced Mike that he'd meant no harm, and while Mike continued working the two got to talking. The guard had been reserved – understandable, given his and Foxy's prior relationship – but even such a withheld conversation as that was like an angel's song to Foxy. He was grateful, grateful beyond measure, that he'd managed to meet Mike Schmidt.

So when Mike decided to come out of his room and interact with the others, Foxy had been ecstatic and unafraid to show it. Mike still spent a lot of time outside of Foxy's cove, but he always made sure to stop by at least once a night, and the pirate was glad to receive such attention.

Mike had even said Foxy was his _favorite!_ Even the past times he'd spent with Mike hadn't held a candle to that moment!

So when Mike had told Foxy to leave Pirate's Cove and be happy, Foxy had believed for the first time in many years that he really could be happy if he wanted to. The thought was so very exhilarating, and yet so terrifying as well. Foxy wanted to be able to leave his cove with no regrets, he _needed _it. But what if he failed? What if the others rejected him? He wouldn't be able to take it, he was sure. It was safe in the cove, he knew that... but was safety really what he wanted anymore?

"...What if they don't want me around?" Foxy whispered into the blackness around him.

_They might not. But you can't control that. Just give them a reason to like you, and if they still don't then keep trying until they do.*chuckles* That's what Mike said, correct? _

Foxy nodded. "Yeah. But I'm still scared."

_And Mike would never blame you for that. Neither would I. Besides, in case you've forgotten this voice here is coming from __**your **__head, so on some level you already know he's right. _

Foxy couldn't refute that point, and he knew deep in his heart that there would be no running from this. Even if he decided to stay, he had no doubt that Mike would give him hell about it once he came back. So scared or not, there really was only one choice.

"Alright... I'll give it a shot."

_Great! *claps* I knew you'd come around in the end! Mike's gonna be real happy when he hears this! _

"Right, right," Foxy laughed softly. Picking himself up off the floor, Foxy turned toward the curtain and took a deep "breath."

He wanted this. No more hiding in his cove until Mike or someone else came around to coax him out. From now on, he'd come and go as he desired. And he'd be a friend to Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica, the same way Mike was a friend to them already. That was what he wanted, more than anything in the world.

Mike could do it, and so could he.

Foxy pulled the curtain open and leaped out in one fluid motion...

…

He struck the floor with a loud 'bang' and rose slowly to his feet. Even with only one uncovered eye, Foxy's gaze easily saw through the darkness, and the pirate fox was more than a little dismayed to find no one in sight. They were always around here – well, maybe not always, but almost always – so where could they be? He was just about to call out for them when the kitchen doors burst open, and who should run out but...

"Was that _you_, Foxy?" Chica exclaimed, her face caught somewhere between shock and annoyance.

"Yeah, it was – I mean-" Foxy began, then backpedaled and cleared out his throat before resuming. "Aye, it be me, lass. Where be Freddy n' th' rabbit?"

Chica jerked her thumb over her shoulder toward the kitchen door. "In there. We're all working on a surprise for Mike when he gets back."

Foxy's eyes lit up. This was perfect!

"Surprise, aye? Would ye mind if Cap'n Foxy came on deck ta lend a hand – hooked or otherwise?" Foxy asked.

Chica cocked an eyebrow skeptically. "You want to help? Any particular reason why?"

Foxy opened his mouth to explain, to tell Chica how Mike had asked him to step out and try to make friends, but caught himself just before anything could leave his mouth. No, he couldn't tell her the truth, not the whole truth anyway. He needed to know that the others would be his friends because _they _wanted to, not because Mike did. If Foxy told Chica now about what Mike did, then she and the others would only ever entertain him for Mike's sake, the same way they did now. He couldn't, wouldn't have that.

"I've been, ah, thinkin'," Foxy began slowly and carefully. "That I been shanghaied in me cove fer too long now. 'S time Cap'n Foxy let 'imself sail th' seven seas again..." The captain paused deliberately. "And I wouldn' mind... havin' some mateys aboard t' make th' journey less lonely. Tha's... tha's what I want, and tha's why I want t' help ye help me bucko Mike."

Chica stared at Foxy as the latter fell silent, bearing a look that Foxy couldn't quite read but hoped with all his heart was an approving one. After an agonizingly long wait, the bird finally nodded with a small smile upon her face.

"Alright then. Follow me." Chica turned and started walking away. It took Foxy a couple of seconds to fully process her words, but when he did it was all he could do to keep from crying out in joy.

"Follow – ye mean ye'll - ye'll-"

"Jeez, calm down, Foxy," Chica stared, bemused. "Look, for now this is just a temporary thing. We'll have to run it by Freddy, and honestly I think it's up in the air right now.

"Anyway," she continued, pausing with one hand on the kitchen doors. "We're making Mike a cake to surprise him when he gets back. It's pretty much done, but we still need to frost a message onto the top. You can pick what we write, if you want." With that, she pushed the doors open and strode back into the kitchen, with Foxy on her tail.

"Hey, whoa, whoa! What's _he _doing here?!" Bonnie's voice rang out as Foxy stepped through the doors. Foxy quickly spotted the rabbit brandishing a whisk at him, glaring accusingly. It wasn't an overall threatening image, but it still hurt Foxy, even if he didn't show it.

"Put that thing down, Bonnie. Y' look like a fool," Freddy scolded Bonnie as he came up from behind and swiped the whisk from the rabbit's hand, setting it gently upon the table. "Now then," the bear continued, turning back toward Foxy with a surprisingly large smile. "Foxy! Ah didn' expect ta see ya out n' about tonight. Everythin' fine and dandy wit' ya?"

Foxy, a little overwhelmed, turned to Chica for aid, but she just gestured back to Freddy. This was clearly something she wanted Foxy to handle himself. Foxy gulped and hesitantly began to speak. "I, uh... I already tol' th' bird – Chica – 'bout this, but I be... looking fer some new mateys t' adventure with me. So I, uh, I be thinkin' tha' ye might be willin' ta let me be a part o' yer crew. Seems like it be a fun ship t' sail on."

By this point, Foxy was practically looking straight down at his own feet, too afraid to risk meeting anybody's eyes. But he forced himself to raise his head just a little bit, enough to see Freddy's eyes if he looked upward far enough. "So... okay?"

Freddy remained silent for a while after Foxy's confession, and Foxy couldn't have been more stressed out from it. Why was he taking so long to decide? He couldn't stand it!

Just as Foxy opened his mouth to prompt the bear, Freddy spoke on his own.

"Jus'... one question here, Foxy."

Foxy nodded uncertainly.

"Why d'ya think y' needed to come here beggin' like that?"

Foxy whipped upward so quickly that his neck groaned in protest, jaw now fully dropped. He was so caught off-guard couldn't even eke out a simple "aye?"

"Ah mean, really," Freddy continued jovially. "Did ya really think we thought so little o' ya that ya needed to beg like a dog fer us? We been waitin' to see ya come outta that damn cove on yer own fer years now. _I _have, 't least."

Foxy could actually feel himself grow faint. Was this... was this really happening?

"_I _haven't, just for the record," Bonnie chimed in, before continuing somewhat reluctantly. "But... I guess if you're _that_ lonely, we might as well throw you a bone. Under protest, of course."

"And I wouldn't have let you in if I wasn't rooting for you," Chica finished. "So I can deal."

Foxy's brain had fully locked down. "B-b-but I thought y-y-ye h-hated-"

"We did," Bonnie replied bluntly. Freddy shot him a harsh look, and the rabbit softened considerably. "But it's... it's been a long time and, well... we've had a while to gain some perspective."

"The wound is...well, it's still healing," Chica added softly, reassuringly. "But if you think we hateyou _that _much, then you really do need to leave that cove more often."

In a strange paradox, Foxy's brain, overwhelmed by all of the information he'd been receiving, actually managed at that point to loop back into the realms of manageability. It was as though all that had been overflowing within his robotic mind had suddenly compartmentalized itself, freeing up untold amounts of new space. With it, Foxy could finally comprehend all that he'd been told.

And with that comprehension came joy. So much joy.

Foxy let a sudden, deafening whoop of happiness and leaped at Freddy, arms outstretched for a hug. Instinctively, Bonnie and Chica surged forward to grab his shoulders and restrain him, but Freddy lightly pushed them both aside, and Foxy was able to wrap his arms around the bear undeterred.

Foxy was laughing, although he himself was only vaguely aware of it; his mind was too much of a giddy fog to realize what he was doing. Freddy didn't mind too much, fortunately. He was happy to see Foxy so joyful after all of these years, he truly was.

Eventually, Foxy released Freddy and took a step back, breathing heavily until he had sufficiently calmed himself. "Freddy, all o' ye – thank ye. I swear on me ship, I'll follow ye fer the rest o' me days!"

Freddy chuckled. "Glad to have y' on board, so t' speak. Now then, back t' that there cake." The bear turned back to the table, where Foxy noticed for the first time had a cake sitting atop it. It wasn't a fancy cake or anything; two layers, with white frosting and pink trim. But it was pretty, Foxy had to admit. "I reckon it'd be mighty hard t' frost anythin' with a hook fer a hand. Jus' tell us what ya want it t' say. We'll write it."

"Make it good," Bonnie added rather eagerly.

Foxy nodded and whispered something into Chica's ear. The chick looked at him with slight confusion, but another nod from Foxy seemed to satisfy her, and she went to work. She squeezed her icing bag, causing a line of pink to ooze from the tip, and gingerly moved it about the cake to spell the three special words that Foxy had chosen:

_THANK YOU, MIKE_

**That wasn't too corny, was it? Have a happy holidays!**

**Tomorrow's Hero, signing out.**


End file.
